#also ignore that i drew this a day early. i miss calculates

[acnelli]

A Favourite

My entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Rating: T

Summary: Ron discovers a group chat that is discussing just how handsome he actually is.

Thanks to TheUltimateUndesirable for organising the Fest.

This prompt had been submitted by @accio-broom​ who also happened to be the beta for this story. Your help and suggestions are always so much appreciated!

@accio-broom​ got inspired by this post by @headcanonsandmore​. So, thank you for the lovely idea! I wanted to write this ever since I saw this post and prompt 39 fit the bill perfectly.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

“Where are you guys meeting tonight?” Hermione asked as she and Harry cleared the table while Ron and Ginny set up the cleaning charms. 

“George’s place this time,” Ron answered and swooped up some foam of the soapy dishwater to smear it across Hermione’s cheek. 

Sometime after the war, the Weasley siblings established the tradition to meet up once a month. Just the six of them going out for a pint or simply getting pissed at one of their places. This resulted in another kind of meet up, consisting of the Weasley siblings’ significant others. Tonight, they would play a French card game which Fleur insisted on being a lot of fun. The rest of them simply agreed because most of the time, they ended up just talking and drinking anyway. 

Playfully swatting Ron’s hand away, Hermione cleaned her face with a tea towel, placing it neatly back on the designated hook. Kreacher liked the kitchen to be spotless, and letting them cook for themselves every now and then at all had already been a huge compromise from Kreacher’s side. So, they always made sure to clean up after themselves; otherwise, Kreacher would immediately take over all kitchen duties again. 

Ginny sat down on Harry’s lap when all the plates and cutlery were taken care of and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She lifted Harry’s left arm to check the time on the gold watch the Weasley’s gifted him years ago. 

“Ron, we should’ve left already.”

“Gin, you know every single Weasley is a notorious latecomer. Except for Percy, maybe. George will probably be not even out of the shower when we arrive,” Ron reasoned as he rummaged through the fridge for the sixpack of Muggle beer he bought to bring to George, “or taking a shite.”

While Ginny and Harry snickered, nodding their heads in agreement, Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes. At some point, she gave up berating Ron about his foul mouth. It was a lost cause, and while she would never admit it out loud, she would definitely miss it if he suddenly stopped cursing. Mainly because over the years, Hermione gathered some exclusive knowledge about what to do for Ron to bring forth a particular choice of swear words.

Ron hardly censored himself, except when Teddy, Victoire and Molly were in the room. Not only would Mrs Weasley twist Ron’s ear off, Hermione definitely drew the line when children were present. She could’ve also lived without the image of George sitting on the toilet. 

They heard the fireplace roar to life, and a few moments later, Audrey came into the kitchen, dressed in grey tracksuit bottoms, white trainers and an oversized blue shirt that sure enough belonged to Percy. Her outfit clashed with the fancy bottle of wine she held in her left hand. 

Hermione looked at Ron, who she had to talk out of wearing his trackies tonight, and into a pair of nicely fitting jeans instead, along with one of his old Cannon shirts. He lifted an eyebrow at her when he saw Audrey’s casual clothes, but Hermione ignored it. 

Audrey sat down with a heavy sigh. “I knew I’m too early. Why am I dating someone so over-punctual?”

“You’re not because Gin and I are leaving now.” Ron laughed as he gave Audrey a quick hug before kissing Hermione and wishing them a fun night. “Don’t do what I wouldn’t do.”

“I think we’re fine then,” Harry commented from behind Ron, where Ginny gave him a peck on the cheek before heading out of the kitchen. 

As Ron turned around, Hermione pinched his arse, not ashamed to cop a feel as she gave him an innocent smile, and he rewarded her with his trademark lopsided grin. “Is this why you wanted me to wear these tight jeans? So, you could properly feel me up?” He asked as he leaned down to give Hermione another kiss.

“ROOON!” Ginny cried from the living room before he could properly snog his girlfriend again. He sighed and gave her a quick peck on the mouth instead.

“Actually, I wanted you to wear them so I can ogle you from behind.” She whispered before he went out of earshot. Ron didn’t turn around, but he gave his hips an extra swing before vanishing out of the kitchen. 

“God, that was gross,” Audrey commented but winked at Hermione anyway, “How can you stand that every day, Harry?” 

Harry was just about to give her an answer when they heard several people arriving via floo, and he settled for just rolling his eyes instead. 

Accompanied by a cloud of some very nice smelling perfume, Fleur glided into the kitchen and right behind her appeared a tall, blonde man Hermione and Harry never met before. This had to be Charlie’s new boyfriend. Ron and Ginny met him last Sunday over at the Burrow when both Harry and Hermione stayed at home since they still had been recovering from a rather nasty case of the flu. 

Fleur took Finn –as he introduced himself in a thick Swedish accent– directly with her from the Burrow where she put Victoire to bed and where Molly and Arthur happily watched over their first grandchild. Harry was secretly happy to finally have another guy in their round again. Not that he minded the company of Hermione, Fleur, Angelina and Audrey. Actually, he always enjoyed their monthly gatherings, but it was nice to not be the only rooster in the yard.

“I’m here, I’m here! I just wanted to stop by the store to grab some more Butterbeer.” Angelina said and put the bottles on the kitchen table. As always, they had a good variety of booze to choose from; Angelina’s Butterbeer, wine from both Fleur and Audrey, the Firewhiskey Harry bought yesterday, and some Cider Hermione picked up from her way home from work. It was way too much already, of course, but that didn’t stop Kreacher from making so much elf wine that they’ll probably never had to buy alcohol ever again. 

As Hermione and Harry added some glasses and snacks, Audrey observed the table with a huge smile on her face. She clapped her hands in childish glee, grabbed a bottle of wine and started to fill Hermione’s wine glass. 

“Fleur, explain that card game to us.”

 *****

Ron was annoyed. 

Because his dear brother was utter rubbish at calculating what would be the appropriate amount of booze for six people, they ran out of beer and whiskey after not even two hours. Due to his bad luck at rock paper scissors, he ended up going back to Grimmauld Place to get them some more beer and one or two bottles of Kreacher’s wine.

The moment he walked through the fireplace, loud shrieks and booming laughter sounded over from the kitchen. Ron planned to just quickly walk into the kitchen, taking what they needed out of the fridge and go back to George’s place. He stopped in his tracks as the conversation filtered through to the living room because he didn’t want his presence to be known just yet.  

“…okay, okay, Hermione. Don’t look at me like that. I complimented your choice in men. Ron is a stilig karl.” Finn said, his booming voice carrying easily over to the living room. Ron didn’t know what stilig karl meant, but from what context he was able to overhear, Finn might’ve just said something nice about him. 

As silently as possible, he stepped out into the hallway where he could hear the conversation better but would remain undetected by the occupants of the kitchen. 

“I personally like his jawline, especially when he lets it go stubbly. It’s…,” Audrey snipped her fingers, “very tempting to touch sometimes. Remember Sunday afternoon after lunch? I kind of had to restrict myself from starring at his jaw when he listened to the Cannons game on the radio. Such determination.”

Ron was sure he was glowing in the dark as he felt the blush creeping up his neck, his face no doubt looking like a tomato. He expected many things, but he certainly didn’t expect to run into this kind of conversation. 

“What does Percy have to say about you lusting over his brother?” Hermione asked, and Ron had to stop himself from bursting out into a laugh because he could practically see her narrowing her eyes. 

“Oh, Hermione, don’t be such a prude. There is nothing wrong with admiring somebody else than your own partner. It eez only natural.”

Ron could not hear Hermione clear enough, but he thought he could hear her muttering something like ‘I’m not a prude.’ 

“Does somebody else has a favourite part of Ron they want to elaborate on? Or can we finally start the next round of cards?” Again, the red-head tried his hardest not to laugh when everyone just ignored Hermione’s sarcasm and, indeed, continued elaborating on the topic.

“His arse!” Angelina offered. From the way she was dragging the ‘s’ a little, he could tell she was already slightly tipsy. “Ron has a very nice bum. Do you guys train your arses in these weekly training sessions at work, Harry?”

Of course, this brought forth another wave of hysterical laughter, which only intensified when Finn told Harry to keep him in mind for these arse workouts. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”

When Angelina recovered from her giggling fit, she declared to Harry she too wants to sign up for that training then added, “But Ron had a nice arse before Auror training anyway.”

“And when did you notice that may I ask?”

“Hermione, it’s almost impossible to play Quidditch and not have a nice arse. Sitting on a broom for hours is no picnic for those muscles,” Angelina answered, unfazed by Hermione’s haughty undertone while Audrey let out something between a snort and laugh, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit. 

“Don’t you agree, Hermione?” Angie asked innocently as she clapped the still coughing Audrey on the back. 

All the ruckus must have summoned Crooshanks because the ginger cat ran towards Ron. He quickly picked him up and started to scratch him behind the ear, successfully stopping him from running inside the kitchen and surely disrupting the conversation inside. And a shame this would be, considering Ron really wanted to hear his girlfriend’s answer.

“I certainly agree,” Hermione said calmly, “Ron hated his hand-me-down jeans, but I always had been very fond of them. Especially, their tendency to hug him in all the right places.”

So much for these new tight jeans, she talked him into buying, Ron thought, not being able to stop the huge grin splitting his face. Running into this conversation certainly was a pleasant coincidence. 

Apparently, the others didn’t expect Hermione to answer so smoothly because a chorus of approving whistles startled Crookshanks, and Ron almost dropped him when the cat clawed at his arm. 

“So, you guys are mostly fond of his arse,” Finn mused, taking a quick swig of his beer, “which is understandable but did you ever notice his shoulders? Ron has the best kind of build; slim waist and broad shoulders without looking burly. Please don’t tell Charlie I said that.”

“Tall and handsome, just like my Bill,” Fleur agreed, Hermione giving an annoyed groan that did nothing to stop the French witch from elaborating, “but I say, Ron’s arms and hands are ze best thing about him. Of course, I hate he got zis scars in ze first place, but I think zey accentuate his arms and big hands rather nicely.”

“Well, Fleur. That surprises no one, I think.” Harry said, joining the conversation for the first time since Ron listened in. 

“Don’t even encourage this, Harry,” Hermione whined, “How could find it not weird we lust over your best friend?” 

Ron knew full well that Harry would tease Hermione, and probably him too, forever about this, so Harry’s next words weren’t too surprising. 

“Well, actually…if I would play for the other team,” Harry obviously made a point to make a meaningful pause here, and Ron really, really wished he could see Hermione’s face right now, “…I mean, if we approach this in a logical manner…I have a thing for red-heads after all.”

The next outburst of laughter, surely about Hermione’s expression, sent Crookshanks in a frenzy for real now, and the bloody cat let out a loud wail and wriggled out of Ron’s arms, scratching the side of Ron’s neck before jumping down over his shoulder. 

If not for Crookshanks loud entrance into the kitchen (why he would bolt towards the noise that scared him was beyond Ron’s understanding), Ron’s colourful cursing tipped off the others about his presence. 

Well aware he had been caught, Ron followed Hermione’s cat into the kitchen, red-eared and shyly waving at everyone. “Hello…”

Before he could offer some kind of explanation, a furiously blushing Hermione jumped up from her seat, bolted towards Ron and without another word, took his hand and dragged him off towards the stairs. “Make sure to take good care of this new scratch on his neck, Hermione!” Audrey shouted after them, accompanied by the other’s laughter. 

With a loud bang, their bedroom door shut, and Hermione immediately pressed Ron against it, showering him with kisses and roaming hands. Slightly puzzled but equally enthusiastic, Ron took Hermione’s face into his hands, deepening the kiss and enjoying the feeling of her body pressed up against his. As they finally came up for air, Hermione nudged him towards their bed, but Ron didn’t move from his place by the door. 

“Hermione, you know they just said that to take the mickey, right?” Ron grinned at her and gave her a wink, “Riling you up is apparently not just my favourite past time.”

“You think they only said that to rile me up?” Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow as she took his hand and resumed her mission to get him into the direction of the bed. “

This time he complied, Hermione lying down onto the soft mattress and tugging on Ron’s belt, making him fall right on top of her. “Of course, you would think that,” Hermione whispered. 

“Think what?”

“That the others just said that to rile me up.” Hermione answered, her hands slowly roaming up and down Ron’s back, “I don’t get possessive over nothing, you know.”

“If…you…say…so,” Ron murmured between the kisses he placed on her neck. He paused his trail towards that special place behind Hermione’s ear to look at her with an awfully smug smile. “I did not plan to wear them again, but I’ll gladly dig those old jeans out of the wardrobe. You know, for the sake of making you happy…and also probably Angelina.”

“Shut up and charm the door!” she said as Hermione let her hands wander over his jeans-clad arse, silently marvelling about its firmness. 

As her hands and mouth wandered over his shoulders, his arms and his scars, and as his hands cupped her face and his blue eyes looked down at her with an expression that always spoke directly to her heart, she decided that every part of Ron was her favourite part.  

[x5red]

Sixty fun & fascinating facts about the classic Supergirl (1 / 4)

Great guns! How time flies!

May 2019 will mark sixty years since the pages of Action Comics #252 carried its landmark tale: a crashed rocket ship in a Midvale field, and emerging from within, an enthusiastic young teenager who was destined to become one of Earth’s fiercest champions. That teenager was, of course, Kara Zor-El -- otherwise known as Supergirl..!

To celebrate the classic Kara Zor-El’s sixtieth anniversary, compiled below is part one of a series outlining sixty surprising or unusual facts about the original intrepid Argo City teen who leapt from that crumpled Midvale rocket ship. Covering her original Silver and Bronze Age incarnation, in comics and on screen, each factoid is calculated to intrigue and delight -- hopefully even seasoned Kara fans will find a few morsels of trivia that had previously escaped their attention.

Enjoy...

1. She wasn’t originally known as Kara Zor-El when she debuted in comics.

What’s in a name? Well not a lot, it seems, if you happen to be Kryptionian..!

Although everyone knows Supergirl’s real name is Kara Zor-El, the Maid of Might herself didn’t deem it worthy of a mention until Action Comics #288 (May 1962), three years after her introduction, when she innocently referenced her full moniker during a dream sequence. After that readers would need to wait another fifteen years(!) before she’d mention it again in Superman Family #177 (June 1976). Outside of these rare instances Kara was usually known as Kara of Argo City, or in very early comics simply just as Kara, her birthplace itself not having acquired a name until Action Comics #280 (Sep 1961).

2. 1984′s Supergirl wasn’t actually the first movie headlined by a superhero female.

Many movie buffs will list 1984′s Supergirl as the breakthrough release that finally saw women headline a movie in the superhero genre, but this is far from the truth.

Supergirl’s record is true, but only in the English-speaking world: there had already been numerous superhero movies in non-English markets centred around super-powered female crime fighters, most notably in the Philippines. The most popular Filipino superheroine, Darna, had already racked up no less than eleven movies by 1980, plus one guest appearance in another hero’s movie.

3. She once fell madly in love with a woman.

As incredible as it seems today, the straight-laced DC Comics of the 1960s once okayed a story in which the Maid of Might fell head-over-heels in love with a woman. It happened in Adventure Comics #384 (Sept 1969), and, as you might expect, the story had a few twists and turns before the true nature of Kara’s romance was revealed.

The short version is this: Kara uses computer dating to select a match suitable for a superwoman. The computer picks Volar, a male superhero from the deeply misogynistic planet of Torma (second planet of Star-Sun 447B, in case you want to pay a visit.) Kara travels to Torma and is smitten by Volar, but he seems reluctant to reciprocate her affections. Eventually the plot reveals its twist: due to Torma’s notorious chauvinism, Volar is actually a superheroine forced to masquerade as a superhero. ”I’m heading back to Earth – where I belong!”, exclaims a disappointed Girl of Steel, “I found out Volar was no hit – but a real miss!” (Ho ho!)

4. She’s a self-professed fan of Jazz.

Growing up in both Argo City and Midvale, Kara was probably exposed to a wide range of different musical styles -- but at the end of a long day saving the world, what kind of sounds did she like to relax to? The pages of Daring New Adventures of Supergirl #7 (May 1983) dropped readers a hint when Kara expressed a strong affinity towards Jazz music. Indeed in a later issue of that same series, it is while attending a free Jazz concert with friends in Chicago’s Grant Park that Kara first tangled with the super-villain Reactron (making his comicbook debut.)

5. She once packed in her superhero career to become a socialite and style-icon in Paris.

The mid-60s was an interesting time for DC Comics; a tipping point between the juvenile gimmick-driven hangover of the Golden Age, and the more mature storytelling style of the upcoming Bronze Age, as one generation of artists and writers slowly gave way to the next. Brave and the Bold #63 (Dec 1965) fell squarely into the former category with its outlandish story, Revolt of the Super-Chicks.

The tale begins with a restless Kara feeling unappreciated: the public see her as just a hero in a gaudy costume, ignoring the sophisticated woman inside. Much to the chagrin of Kal-El, Kara abandons her superhero-ing career and heads to the bright lights of Paris to live it up. Kal sends Wonder Woman to Paris to talk some sense into Kara (the first time the pair had shared an adventure, by the way), but Diana is likewise wooed by the socialite lifestyle and joins Kara in her nocturnal revelry. If it hadn’t been for the intervention of the villain Multi-Face, the pair might have still been in Paris now.

6. Producer Ilya Salkind regretted Helen Slater’s casting as Supergirl.

When Ilya Salkind took on the task of co-producing Superman-related movies in the mid 1970s, he’d argued against the wishes of both Warner Bros. and his producer father, Alexander, by suggesting that the title role not go to a Hollywood A-lister. Ilya followed exactly the same logic when it came time to cast 1984′s Supergirl, championing an unknown actor called Helen Slater over more bankable names such as Brooke Shields (favoured by his father.)

In an interview in 2000, however, Ilya seemed to have some regrets, telling Scott Michael Bosco on behalf of Digital Cinema, “[...] frankly, with hindsight I regret it. Brooke Shields would have – not made it a better movie, but perhaps a more commercial one. This I’m convinced. I think there would have been more men seeing the movie.” Commenting on how Slater’s screen presence was more Katherine Hepburn than Sophia Loren, Salkind noted, “What happened, I think, is that we lost a lot of the audience, the male audience. I think it was also because the girl was a little unattainable.”

7. One of her most iconic costumes was originally designed by a fan.

Supergirl has had a number of crime-fighting outfits over the decades, but two particularly stand out as being iconic: Helen Slater’s 1984 movie costume (plus its imitators, such as the post-Crisis Matrix costume and Melissa Benoist’s tv costume), and the 1970s hotpants outfit.

The Girl of Steel’s hotpants attire was a racy number that screamed 70s sexploitation at a volume only Kryptonian lungs could achieve: short shorts, a plunging V neckline, billowing sleeves, and a neck choker, all in the customary red, sky blue, and yellow. The design wasn’t something dreamt up by one of DC’s staff of artists, however. but taken from a sketch submitted by reader John Sposato of Edison, New Jersey. DC had used several fan submitted costume ideas during the early 1970s -- each outfit typically receiving one or two story outings -- but John’s submission was obviously so liked by DC artists that it eventually became her permanent costume for most of the 1970s.

8. She turned Streaky into a Super Cat by accident.

DC in the Silver Age prided itself on being a family-friendly brand, free from the squalor and depravity that had once graced the pages of some of its competitors, causing moral crusaders (armed with books written by Dr. Fredric Wertham) to brand the medium as a threat to the youth of America. Without the use of excessive violence to bring thrills and drama to its superhero comics, DC relied on gimmicks such as Kryptonite. Consequently, by the Silver Age, the stuff was everywhere(!)

With her keen practical mind, Kara decided (much to the condescending amusement of her cousin) to develop an alchemy that would neutralise the harmful effects of this ever burgeoning supply of Kryptonite (Action Comics #261, Feb 1960.) She failed, naturally, but the discarded end-product, labelled X-Kryptonite, ended up accidentally giving a local stray alley-cat super powers. And so Streaky the Super Cat was born -- entirely by accident..!

9. Lena Luthor wasn’t the only female Luthor family member giving her trouble.

The Luthor family has a long history of causing trouble for the Girl of Steel. Not only did Supergirl struggle to keep her secret identity from the telepathic Lena (Thorul) Luthor -- Lex’s little sister -- but Adventure Comics #397 (Sept 1970) saw the introduction of Lex’s scheming niece, Nasthalthia. Nasty, as she was known, joined Stanhope College with a determination to help Uncle Lex flush out which of Stanhope’s students was secretly Supergirl. Suspecting Linda Danvers from the start, Nasty even followed Linda when she graduated and moved to San Francisco to become a TV camerawoman. The pair would play a dangerous cat-and-mouse game throughout many early 1970s Supergirl tales, but Nasty never quite got the proof she needed to unmask the Maid of Might.

10. She was married when she died in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

A story published in Superman Vol. 1 #415 (Jan 1986) saw the Fortress of Solitude infiltrated by a mysterious visitor from a distant planet. Intent on stealing a memento of the recently deceased Kara, the handsome green-skinned thief named Salkor is quickly apprehended by Superman.

Salkor explains how he had found Supergirl drifting unconscious in space some two years previous. He had cured her of Kryptonite sickness, but she had been left with severe amnesia. In the days that followed Salkor and Kara drew close and entered into a quickie marriage, but not long after the marriage he awoke to find Kara missing -- her memory had presumably returned. Over the next two years Salkor slowly traced his bride back to Earth, but tragically he arrived just as news of her death was broadcast around the world.

11. Her creation was part of a strategy to boost DC’s flagging superhero comic sales.

Supergirl wasn’t created on a mere creative whim; the impetus behind her introduction was likely a long-term sales strategy DC Comics had been following since the mid-1950s. According to Gerard Jones in his book Men of Tomorrow, DC knew that the demographics for the Superman radio and television shows revealed a sizeable share of young girl audience members, and that market research showed that girls read their brother’s Superman and Batman comics (second hand!) DC therefore set out to entice young girls into buying their own superhero comics by introducing titles like Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane, and characters like Batwoman and Supergirl. Although some superheroines have been accused of being nothing more than eye-candy for the young male audience, Supergirl was introduced squarely to inspire young girls.

12. She could read your mind.

In Adventure Comics #397 (Sept 1970) Supergirl investigates a mystery girl found in a coma on the Stanhope College campus. As the anonymous patient lies motionless in a hospital bed, the Girl of Steel conveniently remembers that she has the ability to perform Vulcan mind-melds: ”I'll try to delve into her subconscious -- maybe I can learn something”. The trick reveals that the mystery girl was the victim of a black magic cult, causing Supergirl to infiltrate the group undercover (literally!) Strangely, although the Girl of Steel can read other people’s minds, she seemed very poor at reading her own, as she promptly forgets all about her mind-reading abilities after that single issue.

13. She always knew how to be popular.

When Kara from Argo City first landed on Earth, she took it upon herself to pick her own secret identity name. “While you were gone”, she tells her cousin, “I used my super-hearing and heard many Earth girls’ names! I thought of a good one for myself.” The name she chose, of course, was Linda.

It isn’t perhaps a surprise that her super-hearing fixated on that particular name, given that according to names registered with US Social Security, Linda was one of the most popular girls’ names in the 1950s, beginning the decade in the top slot, but dropping two places to third by the time Kara arrived on Earth in 1959. (Kara, by the way, was 935th on the girls list at the time that Ms. Zor-El crashed her rocket ship in Midvale.)

14. Her first appearance on television was in a 1962 comedy sketch, played by Carol Burnett.

In 1962 the Garry Moore Show featured a seven minute sketch lampooning the popular George Reeves Superman TV show -- the comedy gimmick being that instead of the Man of Steel, the sketch’s evildoers were pitted against the Maid of Might, played by comedian Carol Burnett. (A similar spoof by Lucille Ball a few years earlier doesn’t count, btw, as Lucy was playing Superman, not Supergirl.)

The madcap plot sees Carol dashing to and fro, frantically switching back and forth between her everyday clothes and her hero costume, while performing an array of ridiculous feats of strength. It is debatable whether this truly qualifies as a genuine Supergirl appearance, given the obvious Reeves inspiration, but Burnett’s 1962 version does use the Supergirl name and a reasonable facsimile of her 60s costume.

15. Her first proper appearance on television was in an advert, selling underwear!

Even if the 1962 Carol Burnett sketch is ruled out as not being canonical Kara, Supergirl’s late-70s underwear commercial qualifies without a shadow of a doubt. The short advert, for the kids brand Underroos, sees Supergirl, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman, and even Batgirl, all extolling the virtues of wearing superheroine themed undergarments. Dating from sometime around 1978, the ad seems to be the first authorised on-screen appearance of Supergirl, meaning that the ad’s opening line, “Now Supergirl is on Underoos”, is the first spoken line uttered by any actress playing the Girl of Steel. (It is unknown who the lucky voice artist was.)

That’s all for part one -- hope you enjoyed it..! Check out part two (soon) for another fifteen fascinating factoids.

[enter-fandom]

The Long Road (part 1)

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Thorin x Reader (eventually) Rating: General Warnings: General, Canon Compliant Violence Theme: N/A Request: N/A Words: 1521 Status: Part 1 Notes: I’ve seen so many “Reader Falls into Middle Earth” stories, and while I love every single one, it’s always an unprepared reader with very few skills that translate. I wanted to rectify that, if I could. Warnings are for each individual part. Later parts will likely contain Smut. Secondary Notes: For those who have never been to a Ren Faire, or a convention, peace tie is the act of rendering a weapon (usually a blade) unusable, by making it unable to be unsheathed. This is often done using zip ties. This is done for the safety of actors and patrons. All faires I’ve ever been to peace tie weapons upon entry. Some peace tie weapons bought in shops on fair grounds, others do not. Also, some faires allow patrons and actors to camp on premises, but outside the faire proper ----

It was your third weekend of Faire, and one of your first times off of the season. Wandering through the various shops, speaking to the artisans and other actors you knew as the morning faded into early afternoon, you immersed yourself in the painstakingly crafted world around you. Despite being off for the day, you’d chosen a simple tunic, trousers, and leather armor, sword peace tied to your side. At your back, your pack contained a few essentials you refused to leave in camp, as well as a change of dress should the afternoon call for it. Stopping at one of the carts on the path, you bought a packet of candied nuts and moved toward the open grounds for eating, roving actors amusing the patrons, some of whom were in garb themselves. Settling under a tree, you enjoyed your snack, the sun warming your skin and your eyes closed, the sounds of activity around you lulling you into a nap, feeling safe with people around whom you knew wouldn’t allow any harm befall you. You woke, however, to a different sort of clatter. It sounded more like camp, than the grounds, and you blinked, far more trees in your sight, and the sun much lower in the sky than should be. Following the sound of voices, you peeked over what appeared to have once been a stone fence, gasping softly at the sight before you. You knew these figures, though not in the same way as your fellow actors. Short, bustling, bearded and armored men - dwarves, you corrected - moved about what was clearly a camp, calling to one another as they worked. Among them, a head of short, curly blond hair bobbed, pitching in where the figure could, but mostly just staying out of the way. A quick headcount brought the number to twelve, and your lips pursed in thought, remembering the all too familiar story and trying to place who was missing and why, realization hitting you. You shrank back when a head turned your direction, and you took a slow, quiet breath, uncertain of what would happen if they found you. Your gaze moved to your sword, and you cursed the peace tie. If things progressed the way you thought they might, it would serve you no good. The sound of gravel and twigs crunching underfoot caught your ear, and you moved, wishing more fervently that you had use of your blade, just in case, when a hat-clad head hovered above you, “Oi, lads. We’ve got company.” You quickly found yourself surrounded, studied and questioned by too many Dwarrow at once, and you stood, holding your hands up to stay the commotion, “One at a time, or I cannot answer anything.” Thorin, of course, took the lead, sneering your way, “Who are you?” “Y/N.” That was simple, at least. His brow furrowed at the name, unfamiliar to his ears, not a common one for Middle Earth, “And are you friend or foe?” “Friend, I should think,” you said with a laugh, “Though, this is unexpected.” “How so?” “This is most certainly not where I’m from.” At the questioning looks, you sighed, shifting your pack from your back and holding a hand up again, “Nothing I’ve got in here will cause harm.” The closest would have been your flintstone, but even that was useless without tinder. They still watched with unease, and you could not fault them for it, even as you reached into a side pouch and pulled out two very foreign items.

You glanced around the group,  locking eyes with Thorin and handing him your wallet before holding your phone out to Ori. While the leader of the company took the offered object,  the scribe looked a little nervous,  a few nods urging him to take it from you.

Thorin was had already unfolded the leather and was studying the construction as well as contents,  “What's this?”

“My wallet,” you reached out, pulling a card from the confines, flicking it, “This is plastic. It's made from different compounds to be used in place of things like glass and metal.  These cards are linked to accounts and allow me to make purchases where I'm from.” He took the card from you with a frown, studying it before returning it where it belonged,  his attention turned now to your license.  “That's my identification.  It has my name,  address,  date of birth.”

He looked from the picture, to your face with a frown, trying to reconcile the difference that ten years had made in your features. “And what's this,  Miss?” Ori asked, still turning your phone over in his hands.

“That, is my phone.  It's a device that lets me communicate verbally over great distances. It's metal,  plastic, and glass all bundled to make it.” You reached out and carefully pressed the power button on the side, drawing it to life. Your lock screen was a picture from Faire that a friend had taken,  you in the heat of a match,  sword drawn,  mouth open in a battle cry.  Sliding your finger over the screen to unlock it as the others peered over the younger Dwarf's shoulder,  revealing a sight that made Thorin's frown deepen.

“That's…”

“The Lonely Mountain,  yes,” you finished,  gently taking your belongings back and tucking them away.  

“How?”

“That's a long story,” you offered,  shrugging. “One I'm willing to tell when time allows,  if you'll have me,  but first,  if one of you would be so kind.” Your hand finally found the hilt of your sword and the group tensed,  hands going to their own weapons only to frown when your tug did not unsheathe the bound blade.  Catching onto your request,  Nori moved forward with a knife, cutting the tie and you smiled, “Thank you.”

Stepping back, you bowed low, glancing up,  “Y/N L/N, at your service.”

The company looked to Thorin,  waiting quietly until he inclined his head, “Thorin Oakenshield, and Company, at yours.”

They broke back into their tasks after that, you helping where you could, making light conversation and getting to know the company in ways kept from the stories of your world. A nervousness remained about them, in your presence, but you didn't mind.  You were much the same,  though for a different reason. Questions were hurled your way,  many about your world,  though some about your knowledge of theirs.  You answered what you could,  but begged off some questions for another time,  eventually taking a bowl from Bilbo when he was sent to take Fili and Kili their dinner.  

“I can handle this,  you know.  They aren't far,” he groused as you moved through the trees.

“The delivery, yes.” What came after was more the reason you were going along.

When you came upon the princes, they drew on you,  frowning at Bilbo, “Who's she?”

The Hobbit ignored Fili's question,  glancing around,  “We seem to be short two ponies.”

He looked to the brothers, who looked suitably chastised, “Yes, we were just… what are you doing?” Kili's gaze moved from Bilbo to where you were moving slowly past the uprooted tree, quiet.

Rolling your eyes,  you looked back,  “Investigating.” You didn't need to. You'd learned their quest as a child, and continued to love it into adulthood.  You knew where the ponies were, and what would transpire,  but wondered how much you could change it.  Moving further through the brush,  you were joined by the other three,  sighing when you saw the trolls. “Go tell the others.” There was whispering behind you,  and you didn't bother to see who left,  creeping forward still as the gruesome trio around the fire conversed. You were no match for them,  even with Fili and Kili, doubtfully even with the rest of them.  The only way this could play out properly as close to what would occur without you as possible.  

Taking a deep breath,  you broke through the brush,  “Excuse me, I believe you have something of mine!”

The plan - if it could even be called that - wasn't your greatest,  but you hadn't really had time, intent on taking care of the situation to the best of your ability. If it hadn't been for Bilbo's quick thinking,  stalling for time, and Gandalf's return,  you'd have been troll food. Thankfully things worked out,  however,  and you abstained from joining the group in the hoard,  instead looking over your belongings and making sure nothing was missing, already calculating the events ahead. It all depended, really, but you had a good idea.

You were right.  Radaghast showed,  taking Gandalf aside,  and then the Orcs. The stupid orcs.  Your sword was useless at your side as you ran,  cursing and ducking to remain out of sight.  As the tallest of the group - though not by much - you had to crouch more,  breathing deeply and nudging Kili. He glanced up,  realization dawning,  before looking to Thorin for instructions.  With a nod from his uncle,  he readied his bow and stepped out,  aiming and firing quickly.  

And then you were on the move again, following Gandalf to the hidden path,  already making your way as the Dwarves discussed behind you if they would follow.  

The path opened around you, revealing the breathtaking beauty of Rivendell, and you smiled.  You were safe,  for now.

[witchofthewine]

18 and Life ch 2

AN: Okay so once again, no beta so please message me mistakes you come across! I try super hard to find them, but we all know it doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t help that I am also suffering bouts of “morning” (lies, it’s all day) sickness as I write. -__- Next chapter is pretty much done...and super dark so...have some fun times before then! 

Warnings: Underage drinking, use of pot, some cussing 

Later that afternoon, Hyde slowly awoke warm and comfortable.  Aimee was tangled in his arms, their legs twined together as she slept as though she had attempted to become a rather affectionate baby octopus. Becoming aware of an increasing problem, the older teen tried to shift a little without waking her up as he tried to shift his wayward thoughts back into line. Hyde couldn’t lie to himself; he was a red-blooded, young teenage male after all and to have a warm, well build body pressed against his was causing a rather uncomfortable situation below his belt. Reaching up to play with her hair once again, he mulled over his situation; on the one hand he knew he would never risk doing something with Aimee in fear of losing her, but on the other, it was hard to ignore the effect she had on him this close. Maybe it really was time to start trying to distance her from him, or at least keep her out of his bed before he did something stupid.

Before he could sort his thoughts out any longer, the shrill cry of the phone broke the peaceful silence wrapped around them, earning a plaintive groan from Aimee as she tried to bury her face in his shoulder. Realizing that it wasn’t going to shut the noise out, she gave a rather colorful burst of language as she tried to untangle herself from Hyde as he tried to keep his issue from being noticed. Once she found herself free, the girl half rolled half fell off the cot in order to stagger to her feet and stumble down the hall to the phone.

Snatching the offending object from its cradle, she sank to sit back to back with the couch. “Hello?” Her voice was thick with sleep as the word slipped out.

“Aimee, were you really still asleep? Come on, it’s already one in the afternoon!” The chipper voice of Jackie filled the receiver.

Hazel eyes watched as Hyde sauntered out of his room, pushing his signature sunglasses back up his nose. Reaching for a long-lost chip not far from her, Aimee playfully threw it at him as he drew closer. It earned her a snort and gentle kick of her foot as she answered, “we never set an alarm, so yeah I was asleep.”

“Can you be here in half an hour? I found the cutest shoes that I am dying to show you!”

Poking her head over the couch, Aimee laid a gentle hand on the warm shoulder beside her as her other hand covered the receiver. “She asked if I could be there in half an hour?”

Hyde glanced at his watch, doing a little mental calculation. “Can you ask her if forty-five is okay? I have to shower first.”

Nodding, Aimee sank back down onto the floor. “Hyde said he can do forty-five if that’s okay?”

“Perfect! I’ll meet you at the food court then. Oh, and let him know that the thing we talked about is already done.” With that, Jackie hung up. Giving the phone a rather confused look, Aimee rose to her feet to drop it back into its cradle.

“She said that’s fine but then added something really cryptic.”

Hyde stood up to wander to the freezer, digging out a popsicle before turning to lean on the appliance. “Oh?”

“Yeah, something about whatever the two of you talked about is already done?”

“I get it, and good, makes it easier.” Taking a bite of his popsicle, he smirked at the look on Aimee’s face. “It’s nothing bad Aims, I promise you that.” Finishing off half the cold treat, he meandered over to hand the rest to her. It was taken without question as the seated teen took a grateful bite. Climbing to her feet to trail after him, Aimee gave him a mild pout as she finished off the goodie.

“How come I can’t know what the big secret is?”

“Just gotta trust me.” He pulled a change of clothes out of his dresser as she leaned on the doorway watching him. “I washed the outfit you left last time you were here, but for some reason the shirt is missing.” Changing the topic, Hyde waved to the bottom drawer of the dresser for her to open. In it was spare clothes she had started keeping there not long after he had moved into the basement room, along with other items she knew she would eventually need; from toiletries all the way to a dwindling bottle of her favorite perfume.

“I think that’s because it was the one that got ripped by mistake while we were all out at the water tower. Crap! I guess that I’ll just have to make do with smelling like a day-old frat house.” Biting her lip, she tugged out the rest of her outfit to change into.

Shaking his head, Hyde nudged her out of the way to close the drawer. Opening the one right above it, he pulled out a t-shirt and tossed it into her face. “You do anything to that shirt, and I will run you over no questions asked.” He warned, walking out to head to the shower.

Aimee caught the shirt before it could hit the floor, a stunned look on her face. Holding it out to get a better look at it, she nearly dropped it anyway. Grinning broadly, she rushed out of the room and up the steps to catch him walking through the living room on his way to the shower he shared with Eric. Tackling him in a hug from behind, she buried her face in his back.

“I promise I’ll take very good care of it.”

‘Whatever, now let go so I can get ready.” Shaking her off, he kept trekking up the stairs as Aimee turned to head back down to his room to get cleaned up herself. Once he was sure that she was heading back down to the basement he scrubbed a hand over his face. Was he being too obvious? Everyone had known when he had been crushing hard on Donna a couple of years back, if he wasn’t careful, they would figure him out with Aimee and then what would he do? Heaving a deep sigh, he turned to focus on the task of getting ready for work.

Back in the basement, Aimee finished getting cleaned up and changed, smiling softly as she brushed her hair. The shirt was a fair bit too big, one shoulder slouched off as it hung down to the tops of her thighs. It was one of his Zeppelin shirts, the fabric worn and soft from how much he wore it. She knew it meant a lot to him and knew she would do all she could to take good care of it.

Once she was satisfied with how she looked, she tugged on her old worn out boots with a slight frown. They wouldn’t last much longer and try as she might no one wanted to hire a young teen that wasn’t really job age. Her options were getting slimmer than a waning moon, ready to go dark sooner than get better. Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth to worry it softly, she kicked her feet slightly as she waited for the tell-tale sounds of Hyde coming back to the basement.

She glanced up at him, smiling as he sat to tug his own shoes on. “You can clean up.” The smile turned into a broad grin as he snorted, glancing up at her.

“I could say the same for you.” Good God he knew he should have taken care of his problem up in the shower as he took in the sight of her in his t-shirt. Aimee quirked an eyebrow at him as she offered him his wallet and keys.

“Problems?”

“None you need to worry about.” Standing, he accepted them from her before tucking the wallet in his back pocket. “Ready to go?”

“I’d rather be back in bed.” Quietly grousing half under her breath, she shrugged. “The mall is overrated anyway.”

“How about this, if you don’t kick up too much of a fuss when we get there and Jackie gives you her surprise, I’ll buy you some nachos. Deal?”

“Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on? That’s not really fair now is it?”

“No can-do Aims, besides whoever said that I was fair?” Leading her up the basement steps to his car, he unlocked her door to let her slide in. Huffing, she crossed her arms as she sat back against her seat as she mulled his offer over. Reaching out, she snapped on the radio to fill the car as he drove, singing softly along with the song. “Come on now, don’t get all bulled up on me now. I can assure you that it isn’t anything bad.” Reaching out, he tugged on a lock of her hair gently.

“I trust you Steven.”

“Good. Then please don’t make a scene once we get inside.”

Poking her tongue out at him, only to get a scoff in return, she climbed out and waited for him to join her. Looking around to gauge how busy the mall was going to be, she was a little relieved to see it wasn’t too crowed. “Are you going to be sticking around for a while?”

“Until I have to head to work. What about the two of you? Are you going to head back to Forman’s tonight?”

“I’m not sure, it really depends on how much trouble I’d like to get into with The Bastard for avoiding the house another night. More than likely, I’ll stop by my house before heading back over. How late are you guys going to be at work?”

“Depends on the night and how busy we are. We got out early last night, but tonight we could be there until late. Don’t try anything stupid Aims, if you need to go home then go home to avoid any issues.”

“Whatever mom.” Rolling her eyes, she climbed the stairs up to food court.

“Look, we both know that he can be a total dick if you do anything no matter what it is. Just try not to get in trouble or hurt.”

“Okay, okay.” Heading in, she turned to face him. “I believe you promised me some nachos.” Beaming at him, she batted her eyelashes in a joking manner.

“Go find Jackie while I get them, I can find the two of you after.” Shaking his head, the older teen walked towards one of the food stands as Aimee began the search once more. Spotting her friend, she jogged over to the other girl.

“We didn’t make you wait long did we?” Aimee asked, slightly worried as she took in the small, empty food basket.

“No, you really didn’t. I ended up coming here a little earlier than planned to eat. Is Steven here then?”

“Yeah, he’s grabbing us something to eat. So, spill it Jackie, what are you two up to?” Arms crossing over her chest, Aimee watched her friend closely.

“Look, Steven and I have been talking this week and we came to an agreement to get you something.” Reaching under the table smiling cheerfully, the dark-haired teen whipped out a shoe box. “Tada! He chipped in to help me buy you some new boots!”

“Jackie! I…why did you guys do this?” Aimee couldn’t help but stare at the new boots that rested in their box. They were almost identical to the ones she wore at that moment, only obviously not falling to pieces as they rested there. “You guys shouldn’t be worrying about me like this. It’s too much.” Stammering out an attempt at a polite refusal, she jumped a bit as a tray was placed in front of her.

Jackie waved her hand as if to bat away the words. “Oh please, we wanted to do this for you. Besides the two of us agreed that you needed them badly. So just take them! No strings attached Aims; we want to do this for you.” She assured, taking her hand as Hyde took a bite of his burger.

Aimee swallowed hard, biting her lip. “You guys, I don’t really know how to thank you both. These are perfect. How did you know what size I needed though?”

Hyde shrugged. “Wasn’t hard to check the other night when you dropped by. After you went to sleep I just checked the tags on the inside for Jackie. She did the rest of the work.” He muttered, acting like it was nothing.

“He also made sure that I didn’t get too carried away. You would have looked awesome in a pair of brown clogs too! But Steven had a fair point that you hardly every wear anything but boots so I stuck with these. Do you really like them though?”

“Guys I love them! I really do. Thank you!” Reaching to tug them out of the box, Aimee forced herself to calm down as she changed shoes to the new ones. Satisfied she wasn’t going to say or do anything else; Hyde shoved her tray closer.

“Nachos, as promised. Jackie, I hope you don’t mind I didn’t try and buy you anything.”

“No, I was too excited to be here, so I ate before you guys got her. I was starving anyway.” Leaning across the table as she spoke, she did steal one of his fries with a bright smile. Aimee watched them quietly, eating her own lunch as she did. Her friends chatted idly about the party the night before, Jackie occasionally stealing more fries, once or twice even risking a nacho out of her basket as well.

Once their baskets were empty, Hyde rose before either of the girls could and took their trays to dump them. Aimee shifted her weight a little, testing out the feel of her new boots. “Are they the right size?” Jackie asked a little worried.

“They are perfect! Thank you again.”

“You can pay me back by telling me how cute I look in any outfit I try on today. Oh! Oh! And you can rate me from cute, to cuter, to cutest!”

Aimee laughed, shaking her head before she gave a light shrug. “Sounds fair enough. Steven, are you really going to clothes shop with us?” She teased, knowing his reaction.

“Not a chance man. Clothes shopping is just a way the man controls you and I’d rather not spend any more time around here. Besides, I need to head out anyway, but Jackie, can I talk to you alone?”

“Sure. Aimee, why don’t you go toss these nasty old hobo shoes?” Passing her the box to toss, she shooed her away.

Unsure why she felt a little left out, Aimee did as she was told while her friends spoke quietly to each other. Trying not to be rude, she hung back and watched the people milling around her instead of blatantly staring at them. She didn’t have to wait long as Jackie appeared at her side, smiling brightly as she linked their arms.

“What has you looking like the cat who got the cream?” Aimee questioned, feeling a little unnerved.

“Oh, nothing. He just asked me to help with one last thing is all.”

“Oh.” Why couldn’t she have helped him instead? Trying to push away the jealously that rose up, she knew there was no point in getting upset in the least bit. “Can I help too?”

“He told me that if I tell you it may push you into one of your famous rants. But since he isn’t here for you to yell at, I’m going to risk it. No one yells at pretty girls like me anyway so I guess I can anyway. Steven said that you needed a couple of shirts so he gave me a little cash to buy some for you; but don’t worry I know I can’t get you anything to actually make you look like a real girl. You and Donna have this thing about looking like a bunch of boys.”

Aimee’s jaw dropped as Jackie spoke, half stunned at the words. “Are you freaking serious?! Jackie, I don’t need you guys to buy me clothes!”

“Whatever Aimee, he knows you better than you know yourself; on top of the fact if you didn’t need shirts you wouldn’t be wearing one of his.” Jackie countered, smirking as she crossed her arms across her chest. “So give it up Aims, you’re going to pick some out or I will and I swear I’ll pick something with the cutest unicorn on it that I can find.”

Blanching at the threat, Aimee gave in just to avoid the risk of ending up in something hideously pink and covered in some sort of horse creature. “You win! You win. Come on, let’s just get this over with.” Relinking their arms, the two sauntered off to the nearest store.

“So, come on spill it Aims, what’s the deal with you and Steven?”

Aimee laughed, rolling her eyes, “what do you mean “what’s the deal” with the guy who looks at me like his kid sister?”

“Whatever, you know that’s not true!”

“Are you kidding me? I should be asking you what the deal is between the two of you!”

“He’s poor, not my type. Yeah, he can be sweet when he wants to be, especially around you, but for the most part he’s an ass. Definitely not happening.”

“Didn’t seem like not happening earlier! You two were awfully close back there, and all the little secrets you’ve been keeping? Come on Jackie, you can’t tell me you haven’t been at least curious of how he kisses, or more!” Aimee leveled her a flat look as she held out a shirt to try on and get an opinion of.

Jackie moved to it, taking it and looking it over before giving a huff but a nod of approval. “Like you haven’t? Okay, I’ll give you that much; I’m pretty sure all of us girls around him have wondered at least once or twice what it would be like to be kissed by him, or, as you so eloquently put it, “or more” because he has something about him. But we all know he won’t ever go for any of us, he’s into older, whore-type women who we all know are far from how any of us act.” A different, dark charcoal shirt was selected off the rack. “I’m just glad you finally admit you want to give that a try.”

“Jackie! He isn’t an amusement park ride!”

“Some days he acts like it!” The two dissolved into laughter as Aimee held onto the clothing rack for support. “You have to admit it; he is a typical teenager! If it had teeth, tits and toes he’s chasing it!” Laughing harder, Jackie gave Aimee a gentle push as she calmed down. “Aimee, it’s clear you are crushing on him hard, even Donna has caught you acting like a puppy around him. We’re worried about you, really. What if something happens and he just hits it and quits it? You deserve real love, Aims, not someone who has a rather,” Jackie searched for the word she needed, “colorful shall we say, history.”

Aimee’s laughter died in her throat before she looked away, picking at the bottom hem of the shirt she wore. “He wouldn’t ever look at me like that anyway Jackie, I already told you I’m pretty much his adorable, annoying little sister. That’s how all of you see me, anyway, isn’t it?”

“Nope, I see you as my living Barbie.” The words were painted heavily with sarcasm to the point they felt closer to a physical slap in the face.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just no matter how I look at it that’s what I’m afraid of. Jackie, you and Steven are my best friends, and while it took a while for me to accept you because of everything I do have that fear.” Her words received a scoff. “No! I’m serious; look at it this way then for me, okay? A pretty, very popular cheerleader and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks? We aren’t exactly a greeting card, now are we? It sounds more like the plot of one of your crappy romance novels, which, no thank you, but it doesn’t sound like we would be best friends.”

“I’ll will give you that, but who cares really? We get along, we have been through some rough times together and I know I can count on you. Do you really think that even one of those cheerleaders were really caring when I was going through a breakup with Michael? No, they didn’t. It was you, Donna, and Steven who helped me. So, what if we aren’t what people expect? You’re my friend and that’s that.” Snagging another t-shirt off a rack, Jackie tossed it to her.

“Okay, okay. No more chick flick moments please. I get it.” A cheeky grin was tossed to the dark-haired girl over a shoulder while Aimee headed to the changing room. Jackie couldn’t help a giggle, trailing after her friend to help rule out what would and wouldn’t be a good top.

The two passed the rest of the afternoon laughing, joking and with plenty more teasing thrown in. By the time they reached the basement that evening, they were loaded with shopping back, cheeks pink from the excitement.

“Look at you two! Seems like you’ve had a good day, considering I thought Aimee would still be trying to die somewhere after last night.” Donna joked, waving from her position on the couch. Fez gave a dazzling smile as he rose to take the bags from the girls, setting them in a corner as they took their seats. Aimee snagged Hyde’s favorite chair as Jackie settled next to Donna.

“I finally managed to convince Aims that she’s really a girl and not some lost hobo. Got her some boots and shirts and look at her! Good as new.” Jackie beamed, dodging the twinkie wrapper thrown at her.

“She doesn’t look much out of the normal, bra burning wild thing I saw last night.” Donna teased, a mischievous smirk on her face. “In fact, I think you two just got lost in Hyde’s closet, and that doesn’t really count as shopping.”

Laughing, Aimee leaned over to snatch Donna’s soda and take a deep drink. “If I remember, very fuzzily, you were burning your bra right along with me! Actually, no, you were the one who convinced me to do it in the first place when you lit yours!” She laughed, giving her a mock glare. “At this rate, I’m not going to have any bras left because of you.”

“I’d share, but I’m running low on my own.” Donna countered, laughing as Fez sat almost enraptured by the conversation.

“On another note! I take it Eric is working tonight too?” Jackie asked, propping her feet up on the table in front of her.

“Yeah, but he said he will try to make it an early night, Hyde too. Both looked a little worse for wear but nothing really terrible so more than likely they will be home sooner than later. You know their boss won’t make them do anything they don’t want to.”

Aimee gave a rather dangerous smirk as she stood up. “Well, while the cats are away, why don’t the mice play?” Giggling, she darted down the hall to Hyde’s room to dig out the small brown bag that he had stashed away a few days before. Tucking the money that was left over from his clothing insistence in its place, Aimee grabbed a lighter off the dresser. Making her way back out to the rest of the group she held it up triumphantly. “Tada! It’s not much left from when we first got it, but share and share alike, right?”

Cheers went up as everyone quickly made the circle, Donna lighting the incense as Fez broke out his stash of candy to share with them. It wasn’t something he did all the time, but when it was just “the ladies” as he put it, he was always willing to share.

“It’s a lot stronger than normal, so watch it. Steven was laughing so hard at the weather channel the other day on this he almost cried. I pretty much tripped out thinking he was turning into the Kool-Aid man…don’t ask because I really can’t remember why.”

The group laughed as they settled in, passing around the goodies so everyone got some of everything. Within an hour, Donna was red faced with laughter as Fez tried to break out his “best” dance moves to the Creedence Clearwater Revival record Jackie had put on. Aimee had stolen a pair of Hyde’s spare sunglasses, mimicking him as Jackie gasped for breath from laughter.

Suddenly, Donna sat up quickly. “Dude, you guys I really need some mac n cheese! Think we can make some without getting caught?”

Aimee half fell off her chair laughing before crawling over to the table to pull herself up. “I don’t think anyone is home so we should. Unless we burn the house down.” Why was that idea so hilarious?

Jumping to her feet, the red head grabbed her friends’ hands. “Then let’s get some! It can’t be that hard!”

“Oh yes, the mac n cheese, one of the best cheesy inventions.” Fez mused, bobbling his head in The Stupid Helmet as he spoke. The girls erupted into louder laughter as Donna guided them up the stairs to raid the kitchen.

Within minutes the kitchen had become a land of laughter and chaos, Fez having found the cereal while Aimee stole a beer from the fridge.

“I thought you said you were never going to drink again after last night Bra Burner?” Jackie shouted, trying to steal the can away from her.

“What I can’t remember doesn’t count! So, shove off Midgetty Bitch! Get your own beer.” The two collapsed against each other laughing as Donna began complaining that her water wouldn’t boil.

“You have to turn the stove on.” A voice by the door deadpanned. The whole room half screamed as they wheeled to face the intruder. Aimee took a tumble off the counter as she misjudged the force of her turn, breaking out into renewed laughter with Jackie as the older teen tried to pull her up. Amusement was plain on Hyde’s face as the two managed to lean on one another to steady themselves.

“Ohhh, man your right!” Donna laughed herself silent for a moment. “I forgot to turn the stove on!” Trying to light it, she nearly burned her eyebrows off as Fez tried to “help” and got overzealous with the knobs.

Eric dodged quickly around Hyde to help his girlfriend before something bad happened to her. Walking over to where the two girls were half wrapped around one another, Hyde rose an eyebrow before he took a drink from the forgotten can on the counter. “Hey! Man, that’s mine!” Aimee pouted as she tried to grab it back. He held it easily out of reach with a broad smirk.

“Not tonight, you’re already messed up enough.” The pout that crossed the face below his almost made him give in. “Are those my sunglasses?”

“Um, no?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Get some food in you, I’ll make everyone some coffee.” Guiding her to a chair, he made sure that Eric oversaw cooking before the rest were sent to sit in at the safety of the table. Heading back to start a pot of coffee, it was hard not to keep glancing back over to where Aimee was slowly calming down; his shirt still hung off a shoulder, and in his shades,  it was almost impossible for him to focus on the task at hand. All he really wanted to do was carry her down the steps for some time alone in his room.

It took almost another full hour before they were all calmer than, only the occasional fit of giggles breaking out as they sipped coffee after finishing the supper Eric had thrown together for them. It was clear they were all still rather baked, but not nearly as bad as what the two sober ones had come back to.

Aimee was leaning heavily on Hyde’s shoulder, half dozing off as the rest talked in lower voices of how their day had gone, what had happened. He kept an arm around her waist, lying to himself it was to be sure she wouldn’t pass out and fall from the chair. Watching them, Jackie got a rather devious gleam to her eye before she laughed a little.

“You two are just so adorable together! Steven, when are you ever going to put the poor girl out of her misery and just kiss her already?”

Aimee jerked up as though burned, cheeks coloring as she leveled a dark look towards Jackie. “What?”

“Oh, come on Aims! Didn’t we already have this conversation earlier today? Every one of us have admitting to wanting to know what it’s like!” Jackie giggled as she leaned back in her chair, wiggling her eyebrows at Hyde as he tried to keep the outward appearance of calm and collected.

“You guys were talking about me?”

Before Aimee could say anything, Jackie sat forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Yeah, I mean, obviously nothing bad, so don’t get all up in arms. Just how every single one of us girls have admitted that we are more than a little curious as to how you kiss…among other things. So, why don’t you let us know? You’re the most experienced out of all of us.” She winked at him as she spoke, Donna turning as red as her hair as she let out a burst of laughter.

“Don’t throw me under the bus too! I only said that before I started dating Eric!” She waved her hands in front of her as if to keep something away from her face.

“Yeah, right Donna! You know you still want to!” Jackie countered.

“Um, guys…I hate to break this fun little conversation up,” Eric interrupted, “but has no one noticed Aimee just took off downstairs?”

Everyone sat up quickly, Hyde on his feet and heading after her before the rest even had time to push their chairs back.

“Aimee?” Reaching the basement, he glanced around. Where the hell had she vanished to so quickly? He didn’t have to wonder long as she walked out of his bedroom tugging one of her new shirts into place, no longer wearing his sunglasses.

“I need to go.”

“What? Aimee, Jackie was just talking, that’s all.”

“No, Steven, what she blabbed up there was something I thought I could trust her with. Look, I just, I don’t even know. I need to go home I guess.”

“I think you need to stay, it’s already late and I don’t want you walking home alone.”

“I’m a big girl, I’ve walked home alone.”

“So, you’re just going to pretend like that conversation never happened?”

“What does it matter?! I’m embarrassed, you clearly-” she was cut off as he strode across the room to grab her in his arms. What she thought was going to be a hard kiss turned soft as he lifted her chin to press his lips to hers. Stunned, Aimee stood there a split second before returning it, feeling his hands slip to her waist as hers moved to bury in his hair.

A wolf whistle split the air, causing her to jerk away from him as though burned. Hyde turned to glare at where the others were all grinning on the steps. Just as he turned to face Aimee again, he only caught sight of her sprinting out the door. “Damn it guys! Did you really have to do that?” He snapped, walking over to throw himself down in his chair.

“Don’t worry, she will be back tomorrow, we all know that.” Donna tried to assure him, taking a seat on the couch. “We were just happy the two of you finally came to your senses is all. Sorry if we did something wrong.”

Torn between staying to talk to his friends, and chasing after Aimee, Hyde gave up knowing she was long gone by that point. Shrugging, he looked to Jackie. “No one else gets to settle their curiosity tonight, understood?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile but nodded. “So, how was it?”

“I’m not about to tell you. Find a new topic.”

[thatswhenyourefrom]

Sunday’s Best - “Poised to Break” & The “Californian”

I wanted to give insight into the checkpoints of the external forces that make me who I am today. I won’t deny that most of these pieces will mostly stem from my adolescence (and also mostly be music), but I still act as clay in the presences of art around me. The selected pieces (or collections of pieces) may be precise or vast, so expect varying lenses. Most of what I wanted to bring to this conversation were my hidden gems; pieces I hold so true to me and me only. I came to a realization recently that some of my favorite albums and some of my favorite movies do not stick to some of my peers. I don’t expect them too. I also don’t expect to sway any opinions or justify any of my opinions. The expectation is to usher you in to the closest parts of me.

I first heard Sunday’s Best in 2002 on a Canadian tv show called Undergrads before I was in the double-digits. It was a background song (reused again in the end credits), but the chorus stuck in my head. Whether it be hummed, sang, or just spinning around in my head, the song and the sound was stuck (and remains to be to this day). This song has built a house on top of my brain.

In the early 2000’s, the internet was picking up a lot of steam, and even though I was a young little guy, i started to learn my way around it at a young age. Yet still, there was difficulty in finding what I was looking for. I needed to find the artist of this song and the name of the song and download it on Napster or Ares or Kazaa or Limewire (or……). When a certain mood would strike, I would feel almost nostalgic and go on journeys to find a soundtrack list of the songs involved with this show. The hunt for the past is what I craved, and still do. One day I found the Undergrads website, put up by MTV when they used to make websites for each individual show on their rotation. It was a flash site and you could navigate around a little picture and highlight items for more information. One setting to navigate was a bar. In that bar was a jukebox. In that jukebox was the soundtrack list.

I began downloading every song I could. To be entirely honest, I think that these two Sundays Best songs were relatively easy to find, since the rest of the soundtrack was made up by obscure Canadian power pop bands. After listening to the first song I downloaded I knew I had found it; the song was called “Saccharine”.

I mark this song as my touch point for what I would later call emo music. The cul de sac that now exists with the houses of The Promise Ring and Texas is the Reason would most likely not exist is I didn’t hear “Saccharine” when i was nine years old. It fit right in with the other music I liked at the time like Jimmy Eat World who had just brought the light of Bleed American to the world. I get amped in the same way when I hear “Saccharine” as I do “Sweetness” by Jimmy Eat World; youthful, energetic, a little pain, and most of all nostalgia.

[If you would like to split hairs for a minute, I really love the poppy sound of this song and it‘s a much more of a power pop/college rock sound that I was attracted to than something classically emo, but it paved the way, so i digress.]

The hooks still get me. The riffs enliven me. At the very least, you can walk away from this song thinking it it is a catchy bastard. If anyone in the world can take a step back, look in on this song, and for even a second understand that this is the foundation for some person’s entire musical world, you have found me out. I am an open book at that point.

This is one song.

There is another Sunday’s Best song in the soundtrack for Undergrads and it also rang in my head, but to a much lesser extent. “White Picket Fences” is a much more reserved song by comparison to “Saccharine.” Quieter, yet way more dynamic. It grows so much. From what I remember from Undergrads, the audience only hears the last section, a theme that is bigger and hookier than the mood the rest of the song lays.

These two songs remained on my iPod for years.

When I was around the ages of fifteen and sixteen, I decided that i really needed to figure out all of this mumbo jumbo and really hammer down the music that has plagued me for years. What is that sound I am looking for? I want more Sunday’s Best. Can’t just search indie rock. Can’t search punk. Can’t search anything. The keyword “emo” was found and i had suddenly discovered a bible.

I spent a ton of time getting to know a ton of new bands which continue to dominate the music I like today. In this discovery of bands, I also learned much about record labels, including Polyvinyl records. Guess who put out Sunday’s Best’s music.

I decided that I would make the gamble and buy the CD “Poised to Break” by Sunday’s Best from the Polyvinyl store. I call it a gamble, because I have been severely bitten by looking in deeper to a bands output only to find out that the single I love is by far the only thing I could find likeable. This is not the case. This album is ten songs of exactly what I love.

“The Hardest Part” is a strange opener, because it’s kind of big and heavy. The chorus is yelled for Christ sake. It’s easily the angriest sounding song for an otherwise mellow band that I would call energetic at most. Partially uncharacteristic, but still a damn fine song. Track 2, “Bruise Blue” would fit right in with the soundtrack of Undergrads (and parallely my life). It’s calm, full of hooks, emotional. Great. Followed by “Bruise Blue” is “White Picket Fences” and “Saccharine”. At this point, my thought it “well I have all of the best songs out of the way.” “Indian Summer” blows that away with a track that I am so surprised isn’t heralded as an indie rock classic. This song wants be on every mixtape and MTV show until the end of time. “When is Pearl Harbour Day” is an awesome song about nostalgia, including the following line which rings in my head all of the time: “I hate nostalgia, it tries to hard to remember only the easy parts.” Track 7 and 9 are both energetic ones. Track 8, “Looks Like a Mess” is a broody, melodramatic song that I am undeniably in love with. “Winter Owned” rounds out the album and brings it back to the energy of track 1 and employs the same mixed singer chorus. The final track (and bonus track) is called “Congratulations”. Full of hooks, personal experience of naivety and confusion. The secret track is an instrumental song I am sure they used to open sets with. I am glad they included it because it’s loud, slow and cool. To me, each track is unskippable.

The whole album sounds like a soundtrack to a teen drama show that were hugely popular in the late 90’s going into the early 2000’s. Shows like Buffy, Dawson's Creek, 90210, and so many others were drenched in naive and intense emotions, stories of love and personal growth, and youth culture which made them a perfect place for this type of music. I am lucky i got to grow up in the times when I did where I can look up to those people on the screen, then be them, then look back on them with a familiar nostalgia.

Years later I would find that Polyvinyl holds a “Garage Sale” where they sell their surplus records and cd’s for next to nothing. While flipping through the garage sale, I had discovered Sunday’s Best had a second full length. I must have unconsciously ignored this release due to my fear of ruining the sanctity of my entire musical foundation. Do I risk it? What if it sucks and it’s ten boring songs? Or what if they sound like other more popular bands of now? It did come out in 2002 when this type of music was the mainstream. This is more than just a $3 gamble.

I bought it. It’s called “The Californian”. It’s better than the first LP.

Again hitting a ten song track count, “The Californian” is a succinct mood of an album. Much more consistent in tone, the songs are a lot more mellow than the ones on the first LP. This doesn’t mean that it lacks dynamics or moments of intensity. But it does mean there’s less yelling, head banging, and anthemic lyrics. What arises is my own personal therapy. Whether it be because I found a lot of this music (emo) in the autumn seasons, or if my mood just drew my to these sounds during fall, I always return to my classics around this time. Monday was a brisk day and I put in “The Californian” and it immediately hooked a line to the center of my heart. The air reminded me to being a young person and being in high school and college and time passing and old friends and how I used to feel so big, and the songs from “The Californian” were not there to yell at me; they were there to hold me like mother to her child. Therapeutic.

Quick track by track: The album launches into “The Try”. Coming off of the first album, you immediately know this album has more pieces to each song (production wise) creating a huge sound. But it’s not wasted. Every melody is catchy as all hell. “The Try” reigns that in. Track two, the title track, continues this pace. The chorus bops around a bit. “Don’t Let It Fade” is the single. Very quiet. Very somber. The bridge is my favorite part. “The Salt Mines of Santa Monica” has more energy than the last two so it sounds like a bigger “Poised to Break” song. The second singer has great contributions in the pre-chorus. He is really being used in a more calculated way. “If We Had It Made” comes in with massive church bells sound. One of my favorite songs. I love the bells. I don’t entirely know what the song is about, but the chorus moves me. Track 6 is a rocker. Even so, it’s consistent. “Without Meaning” was used in a Gilmore Girls and it’s directed melodrama fits that vibe really well. “Beethoven St.” is pure Sunday’s Best. If you wanted to write a song like them, copy this song. “Brave But Brittle” has a lot of the classic emo riffs. The way the intro falls over itself and then morphs into have arpeggios. Another favorite of mine. The last track is easily my least listened to song, but that’s because I usually reach my destination listing to this album in the care. It’s great though and I kick myself for missing it.

(I could give more in depth track-by-track if requested, but that isn’t necessarily the point of the writing.)

This band and these two lengths are an emblem of my growth. They are a tree that has stood my whole life and I am still sustained by its fruit. The sound that is contained in these albums is contains a definition of who I am and what I love. When you cannot articulate a feeling with direct words, you use art. That’s what artists do. Though I could never imagine conjuring this feeling inside of anyone else with my own art, I am glad I can direct others to this album and this feeling. It it’s hooks can get in and you let yourself get pulled, you can be me.

-luke

[atomicjuniper]

Here’s the fic I wrote for the @aftgexchange for @dysfunctional-college-roommates! One of the summer options was Foxes go to a waterpark and well...I guess I sort of set them in the waterpark I go to with my friends every summer and...I kind of wrote more than I expected to? Anyway it’s 7k now (sorry!) and I had a lot of fun but it’s unbetaed. How did this happen, I ask myself, when I couldn’t think of a title. I’ll probably clean it up and post it to Ao3 one day or something but for now I hope you like it!

Neil felt hot just looking at Andrew. It was eighty-five degrees outside. Pushing higher as the afternoon approached, and they’d just gotten off a bus full of athletes. Also, Andrew allowed Neil to share headphones with him while their arms pressed together the entire trip, so there was a less uncomfortable warmth growing inside of Neil’s chest.

Even so Andrew persisted in his usual dark attire despite the heat. Though Neil was quick to notice that the all-black outfits were one-by-one being replaced with navy blues and lower hues of the color spectrum. He gained more contentment out of that than this waterpark trip they’d somehow all been talked into ever could.

           “Thirty dollars each?!” said Kevin, “Coach, you’re aware we could get at least some new equipment with this instead?”

           Wymack dragged his gaze from the money in his hands and yet another form to sign to meet Kevin’s. The worker at the booth made a face Neil knows well: the realization of how thin the glass protecting you is.

           “Would you rather take the children’s prices instead?” Wymack asked, “Cause knowing our lot it wouldn’t take much to convince them.”

           Neil glanced up at the numbers above the worker’s head, wondering if he could get away with saying he was under eighteen, but found that for once the children��s prices at this rinkey-dink waterpark were much higher than the adults. It was a small attraction in the more rural parts of the area. Keeping track of what was out the window on the ride up proved they were surrounded by woods, mountains, and Hooters restaurants for a good mile. Now they were all at the entrance sign, the park’s title reading The Land of Make Believe. It stared at and mocked all of them almost as bad as their opposing fans. Neil wished he could say they were all in, at worst, the middle of nowhere, at best a pocket dimension where this wasn’t actually happening. But he in fact knew the town they were in was actually named Hope.

           “What’s his problem? That’s around the same price as an IMAX movie.” Matt whispered to Dan. Dan nodded. She seemed the most prepared for the trip, with a colorful beach bag, sunglasses perched in her hair, and a rolled up towel. Abby was the last to exit the bus with a cooler and her nursing essentials.

           “Do we get a sympathy discount if we bring up one of our teammates died?” Nicky whispered to Aaron. His t-shirt read Wild By Nature.

           “Don’t know if you mean currently or the near future but I’m so down for either one.” said Aaron. The physical trait separating him from Andrew today was the purple swim trunks from the team’s late-night Wal-Mart run. They had flowers on them, but they were minimalist graphics, so it was acceptable. Andrew on the other hand had dark camo pants on to prove how much he was NOT swimming.

           Allison heard the joke they made but merely squeezed her eyes shut in reaction. The strap of her bikini was sticking out through the neck of her top. She already had tan lines this early in the summer.

           Neil let out a breath and did his best for the warmth still cradling in his chest to not leave with it. He stared at Andrew’s profile as if to gather extra energy. Andrew was instead staring at the No Smoking sign like a disgruntled ex. At least his actual disgruntled ex served him alcohol.

“Um,” the ticket taker said, looking over Wymack and in the team’s direction, “Your shirt…”

Every Fox looked down. Then they followed the line of sight of the person behind the glass and realized they were referring to Nicky.

           “Is it not appropriate?” Nicky asked.

           “Um, I’m not really sure.” The poor kid looked nervous. It made Neil thankful he never had to take a summer job. Never had to deal with a streamline of people. “There are children here, but I’m not certain if they would get it. I’d change just to be sure.”

           “Oh, well if you insist,” Nicky removed his shirt, being certain to sway his athletic body from side to side as he pulled it over his head. He tossed back his hair and dropped the shirt onto the dirt. “Right what it says on the tin, right?”

           Aaron and Andrew knew no one ever assumed their relation to Nicky on first glance, but if there was a way to annul it right then and there they’d take it.

           “Is my shirt okay?” asked Matt. His shirt read Human Mermaid.

           “Um, I’m pretty sure it is,” said the worker, “It might even be more appropriate.”

           They were all given colorful waterproof bands (orange, appropriately) over their wrists. After the money was settled they moved past the sign and into the park. When they were all in front a water gun target game Wymack clapped his hands.

“Well!” Wymack said, “It seems that you maggots have been reprimanded before your very first steps into the park. Your one and only job to your coach is to exceed my expectations, but with you people making the attempt would be miles above what I expect from you to begin with.”

           “You can say that again,” said Kevin, eying the rest of the Foxes. His shirt was a white tee with an orange pawprint on the back.

           “Don’t act like you’re above them. You’re associated with monsters too, remember?” Wymack sent a pointed look to Nicky and Aaron, the closest “monsters” in proximity to him.

           “Aw, don’t look at us like that, Coach!” said Nicky, “Only four of us are monsters! Four-ninths is…dangit why didn’t we bring an electronic calculator to a waterpark!”

           Neil, the math major, wondered which one of them wasn’t being factored in as a monster, how much easier this would be if they still had ten players on the team, and drew the conclusion that he didn’t want to be involved.

           “I nominate slicing Kevin into a fraction!” cried Allison.

           “Hello? Adult authority speaking?” said Wymack, “I nominate that we, as a group effort, venture further than the goddamn Food Lion without involving bodily injury or committing a felony for once?”

           “Only ‘or’, Coach?” asked Andrew, “That’s leaving lot of room for error.”

           The team tried not to laugh at Andrew’s joke. Neil began to notice Andrew looked and sounded tired. He had the urge to say something or reach out for his hand but it had to wait.

“Aren’t there some guidelines we should be going over, David?” Abby asked.

           “Please.” said Wymack, “Guys, it’s hot today. We have a nurse for a reason. Get in the water and try to cool off. If that’s not your thing, just keep hydrated. We have drinks in the cooler if you for whatever reason can’t buy anything. Also, you have our numbers, in case of emergency keep your phones with you at all times. At. All. Times.” Wymack and in fact the whole team was glancing at Neil, for some strange reason. “Is there anything else?” Wymack turned to Abby for confirmation.

           “Sunscreen?”

           “Alright. Sunscreen. Put it on. Just because the only time half of you ever go outside is during practice doesn’t mean you can soak it all up in one afternoon. Also no running near the pool, no eating a half hour before entering the water, yadda yadda blah blah. What else am I missing?”

           Abby looked hesitant to say the next one. “Group assignments?”

           None of the Foxes were really speaking before this, only becoming bored with the precautions, but they all perked up at that and it somehow became more hushed.

“Look, we’re assigning groups.” said Wymack, “Before you start groaning you don’t have to follow it to the tee, you can mix and match however you please, but ultimately we don’t want anybody getting separated and ending up on their own.  There are nine of you so it’s gonna be groups of three.”

           There were yet to be moans from the Foxes. That would wait until which groups were announced. For one thing Neil, judging by what they’ve been through, precautions never hurt. And as much as he wanted to stay with Andrew he would be comfortable with any of the choices as long as it wasn’t Aaron.

           “Kevin, Neil, and Andrew. You’re some of the few Andrew won’t kill on sight and overall seem to at least tolerate one another.”’

           “Debatable.” said Kevin. He went ignored.

“Matt, Allison, and Renee.” Allison and Renee shrugged. No one seemed to have a problem with that for a moment. Until the thought fell on Dan.

           “Wait, so-”

           “Dan, Nicky, and the other Minyard.”

           “I have a name?” said Aaron.

           “Coach…” said Dan.

           “Hey, don’t be that way,” said Nicky, “We don’t bite!”

           Wymack approached closer to their side of the group. “I don’t want any trouble today,” he said, “In fact, don’t bother me at all unless it’s an absolute emergency. All I want is to not be bothered and sharing a beer with Patchy the fucking Pirate. I’m ready, indeed. Are we good?”

           Half the foxes gave a half-hearted yessir. Nicky, Renee, and Allison could be seen exchanging money through hands.

           “What bet is this one?”

           “You just made a SpongeBob reference, sir.” said Renee,

           “Coach, I’m disappointed in you!” said Matt, “I took you for a Simpsons man and now I’m out the price of admission!”

           Though Neil knew human spontaneous human combustion was near impossible for him to witness, he was almost convinced by Wymack’s face. “Look if any of you injure yourselves call Abby and not me.”

           And with that the group began to disperse. Dan, Aaron, and Nicky headed towards the pool, Matt, Allison, and Renee went to the waterslide area, Kevin walked within sight to check a map, but Andrew still stayed still and looked more bored than ever. Neil’s fingers brushed against Andrew’s knuckles.

           “It’s cool,” said Neil, “I don’t want to go swimming either. I mean, I kind of don’t have an option…” Neil gestured to his body. He was showing more skin than Andrew today, with the sleeves of his PSU shirt reaching over his shoulders but leaving a gap of skin leading to his armbands. His shorts were past his knees and left only parts most of his leg hair covered up anyway. He even decided to wear sandals instead of sneakers.

           Andrew made his first movement by glaring at Neil’s face. He pulled his hands away and shoved them into his pockets.

“I’m going to get something to eat.” said Andrew.

“But I might go get a key and throw my stuff in a locker first.” Andrew ignored him and kept on walking, “Hey! What happened to ‘stay in groups’?”

           “He doesn’t seem to be listening so far,” Andrew gestured his head to Kevin, “It’s only twenty feet away. You’re not gonna get eaten by a shark in five minutes, are you?”

           Neil considered the possibilities.

           “Okay. You go ahead,” said Neil, but Andrew gave a salute and already halfway gone, “You’re such a weirdo why do we hang out!”

           The last line he called out a bit too loud, attracting heads of vacationing families to look his way. The anxiety spiked up in Neil and he immediately ran for the lockers.

Dan Wilds lowered her sunglasses from her hair to her over her eyes. She placed her hands behind her head and eased out the tension out of the rest of her muscles, laid back on a long chair in the row of them beside the pool. Sunlight was pressing on her bare legs and shoulders. Children ran past her into the shallow pool.

Behind the dark layer before her eyes she could see Nicky dicking around on a large pirate ship in the pool meant for children. Dan put it off for now, as long as he was in her line of sight. The problem was Aaron hadn’t come out of the changing rooms yet. Abby pulled a drink out of the cooler between their chairs and placed its condensation on her forehead. Dan reminded herself to keep an eye out, but for now there were no worries.

At least it wasn’t, until a tall shadow blocked her sun. Dan did her best not to react.

“Aren’t we supposed to be adults?” Kevin asked.

Out of all the questions Kevin Day has asked Dan this one felt the least confrontational or rhetorical. Though his words were still wrapped in an undercurrent of aggression.

“Legally speaking, yes.” said Dan

“Then why are we at a theme park designed for children?” She turned her head to the side to avoid his gaze and shadow.

“It’s a family park and we’re a family,” said Dan, “Also this one was the closest and had the least crowds.”

“And the traffic for the beach crowds?” said Abby, “Yikes.”

           “And aren’t you supposed to be with Neil and Andrew right now?”

           “I just got a key for my locker,” said Kevin, “Besides, they’re adults they can handle – well they should be able to handle themselves. Theoretically.” His face turned away from Dan to the water momentarily, as if the thoughts raced through his mind. Then he looked back, “I mean, is that a ‘vacation’ to you? Sending unstable people out in public so you have to look after them more than usual? Instead of being home and doing what’s required?”

Dan sighed. Kevin seemed to be another forming cloud on her day so far, “You didn’t have to come, Kevin.”

           “And what would you have said then? You wouldn’t have complained about it?”

Dan threw up her hands in defeat. “Day, shouldn’t the point of fighting for your life be, I don’t know, to live?”

Kevin pinched above his nose. He breathed in, then breathed out. “If you need a waterslide to keep your heart rate up then there are other problems with your life.” Kevin gestured to the myriad of spongy attractions like oyster slides and jellyfish fountains and crocodile floats. “Snakes? Crocodiles? Jellyfish? Dart frogs? They don’t intend to keep me alive. Do you know what pirates were, Wilds? They weren’t child friendly. Which shouldn’t even be relevant because, as I seem to have remind you people again and again, we’re not children.”

It was a shame Dan’s shady eye-role was shaded by her shades. “You brought alcohol, didn’t you?”

“Look at the keychain to my locker, Wilds, it’s shaped like a surf board. And you expect me not to drink?”

Abby covered her ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

“For what it’s worth I didn’t drink any of it yet.” said Kevin. “It’s, what, one in the afternoon? I’m not that terrible.”

“So he says.” said Dan.

“I didn’t hear any of that either.” said Abby.

At that moment Matt passed by the three of them. He had a towel around his neck, wearing still sporting his Human Mermaid shirt but in bathing trunks now (they were cloud themed).

           “How’s my Number One doing today?” Dan immediately sat up in her seat.

           “I’m good so far. I’m good.”

           “Well that’s good cause nobody deserves a day to themselves better than you.” Dan beamed, and Kevin suddenly felt like the conversation had be dropped.

           “If you wouldn’t mind, can you put some sunscreen on the back of my shoulders?” Matt nodded and she handed him her bag. She looked back at where Kevin was standing. “Kevin, relax. Maybe you don’t want to go down a waterslide or sunbathe by the pool but it doesn’t hurt to just breathe for a second. Do what you want to do and rest.”

           Kevin looked around as if he wasn’t quite certain how to do that. “I’m going back.”

           As Matt looked thought Dan’s beach bag he placed some of her keys by her foot.

           “Oh wow, it is shaped like a surf board.” said Dan.

“Alright: betting time,” said Allison, “Who’s punching who in the face today?”

           “My money’s on somebody getting kicked in the groin.” said Matt. The group of guys Allison had attracted around them laughed.

“That’s oddly specific, Boyd,” said Allison, “Not wise to measure the amount of groin-kickage in the US by America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

The guys laughed what Allison said. They tended to laugh at everything she said.

“I’m not measuring anything on anything.” said Matt, “Just seeing a year-worth of pent-up aggression from wanting to see justice while wanting to avoid a red card.”

“I dunno. I guess it depends on how much you hate the guy,” said one of the guys close to Allison’s arms, “Your teammates get riled up easily?”

Matt and Allison chuckled at that.

They were all waiting on a long line for the Lazy River. After time passed Allison, her slim bathing suit showing off her muscular psyche naturally attracted other guys at the waterpark. Matt was directly at Allison’s side, but somehow Renee had gotten shuffled towards the edge of their group.

Renee grinned anyway. She’d been on the outlier of the conversation. “It doesn’t hurt to think outside the box,” she said, “But from my experiences of fighting Foxes, I’m putting money on taking advantage of their surroundings.”

Allison laughed, “You’re so right. I’m just imagining Kevin smacking Neil upside the head with one of the waterslide tubes or a floating crocodile.”

All the guys laughed but Matt’s was the strongest. Loud and hardy. Renee laid back further on the fence and smoothed her hands over her cover-up.

“You’re right, that is an amusing image,” said Renee, “But that’s not what I was considering when thinking of a waterpark.”

Matt and Allison thought on her words for a moment, and as they did their laughter died down. “You don’t mean…if they try to drown someone?” Allison asked.

“You can’t drown in shallow water!” said one of the guys. They were still laughing, since they were never involved.

Renee stood on her toes to look over the gate to see the attendees laying on tubes on water in motion, “That’s the pirate’s cove. I’d estimate the Lazy River is roughly five feet.”

“Dang, that’s stone cold, Walker,” said Matt, “So, if I’m understanding correctly, I’m putting your money on ‘one of the boys finally snaps and are never seen again’?”

“I didn’t mean drowning. I meant using the water as a tactical advantage.”

“Like drowning.” said Allison.

“I meant like standing your ground in a familiar environment.”

“Like when you’re drowning someone.” said Matt.

“Woah,” said one of the bros, “That’s like that scene in The Matrix and shit? Y’know, the third one? Where they fight in the rain and all that? And all, like, the clones are staring at them? But nobody drowns. It’s their souls that’s drowned. But the clones are supposed to be like…like…us.”

One of the guys groaned, “Nobody here cares about your philosophical musings, Lathan.”

Renee considered herself to be social, but would never quite know how to respond to that. “The bottom line is, I’m putting in fifteen.”

“Done deal.” Renee leaned in very far to shake Allison’s hand.

All the boys that weren’t Matt exchanged glances with one another. “Um, what exact sport do you play again?”

“Exy.” said Allison.

“Woah, isn’t that a rough sport for you?” One guy turned to Renee, “And especially for you?”

Renee offered him a polite grin, “It’s sweet for you to worry about me. But I’m the goalie, so I suppose that helps. Keeps me from all those nasty hits.”

Allison laid back on the fence. “Fuck that,” she said, “It’s a unisex sport so there’s more than one gender of player. Simple as that.”

“Yeah, girl power!” said a guy.

“On that note,” said Matt, “Our team captain is a girl.”

“Woah, lucky!” one of the guys said, and Renee noticed Matt didn’t mention his relation to her.

“Does that ever get awkward?” one of them asked.

Allison and Matt wanted to tell them no, but there was no good way or easy answer. Good thing they were close to the end of the line by that point.

“Well, it was nice meeting you boys!” said Allison, “I’d like to hang out with my friends now, if you don’t mind.” Allison was already backing away to the steps leading to the river.

“No, no, it’s all good!” a guy said, “It okay if some of us have your number though?”

“Oh, yeah, okay, sure. But I don’t have my phone with me? Maybe later.”

“Okay. After the ride maybe?”

“Uh, yeah definitely maybe!”

Renee grabbed a two-seater tube to share with Allison. Matt grabbed a two-seater one just for himself, due to his height. Allison laid back beside Renee, dipping her feet in the water as they drifted afloat.

Allison sighed. “Filling the void, right?”

“Filling the void.” said Renee. “That’s why the world is filled with lots of people.”

“You said it.”

Neil turned the key to lock the door shut. The moment he stepped away from the locker he felt lighter and anxious, though that could have been from being on his own with other people at the moment. He wasn’t certain if the children with their parents were glancing his way but he had difficulty stopping himself from thinking that they were. So he found his way outside as fast as he could. Neil distracted himself but putting the new temporary key on his keyring.

The sun was out and warm. He was noticing the positives of this place so far. The waterpark was filled with families but as long as you avoided the waterslides there were little to no crowds. The more open space compared to more populated amusement parks which gave him room to breathe.

He looked at the map that Kevin was reading before. This place seemed to be an assortment of waterslides, a series of water-based things like the river, carnival rides and games he’s outgrown, and a hayride leading to a petting zoo.

When Neil returned he found Andrew and Kevin near the carnival games. Kevin was giving a shot at the Can a Tin-Can! game, currently smashing a pyramid of cans with a baseball. The medium-sized plush shark he won was tossed on the wooden picnic table directly behind him where Andrew was sitting. There was a large stuffed dolphin and starfish seated next to Andrew’s cheesy fries. Andrew was resting his head over his folded arms.  

Neil set down his water and phone and cautiously sat down across from Andrew. From here Neil could see Andrew’s eyes were closed.

The team had known about the waterpark trip for a few weeks now, but hadn’t considered, oh right, preparation, until the night before. Most of them spent the previous night on an emergency trip to the store to grab the essentials. Then they did regular shopping. It was past midnight. Andrew was the one who drove. Neil considered why Andrew was more tired than the rest of them, since he waited at the doors until they left and everything he needed was on a list he gave to Neil. Maybe it was just the usual lack of sleep. Neil could relate to that.

Kevin tossed a stuffed eel among the pile. Neil considered the idea of tucking the shark into Andrew’s folded arms but he knew he was already tucked away with his knives and Neil would like to keep his own arms for next season.

“Keep eyeing me while I’m sleeping and you’ll lose your sight privileges.” said Andrew. The stuffed shark had nothing on the real thing.

Neil’s head jolted up from his hand. “How could you tell?”

“You’re predictable.”

Neil sighed, then shrugged. “The consequences of a personality, I suppose.”

Andrew mumbled something but it was softened by his arm and exhaustion. Neil thought it almost sounded like a threat, but of course with Andrew everything does.

“Goddamnit!” Kevin yelled. He was at a game called Frog Bog. In the booth there was a pool with rotating lily pads in it. He apparently was required to launch rubber frogs onto the pads by placing them on a mini-catapult and slamming it with a hammer. Judging by his reaction and lack of frog plush Kevin had yet to succeed at this. There was a frustration burning in the way Kevin put his hand on his chin and looked like he was fully prepared to scold the frog on its life choices.

Neil stood up and assessed what was in front of him. Kevin had been succeeding at strength and aim based games thus far, ones benefited from his Exy skills, but this one was centered more around timing and trajectory. His experience would also help here but, of course, the carnival game was likely rigged too. He watched at Kevin paid for his next try (What happened to buying equipment, Kevin? Neil wants to say but doesn’t) and was given another rubber frog. The frog looked like it had been launched from a catapult all summer; beaten to hell and as slimy as a real frog.

Kevin folded the frog onto the catapult and slammed the hammer down. The frog flew so high it missed the pool entirely.

“I’ll try.” said Neil. Kevin shoved the hammer in his hands. Neil paid for his try and was handed a frog. Kevin and the other employee watched as Neil looked from the catapult to the frog to the Lilly pad to the hammer to figure out some plan.

“Hey, isn’t that they Candy Cane forest over there?” Neil shouted, pointing in a random direction.

The moment the employee glanced away Neil gripped the frog with his bare hands (it felt gross) and chucked it at the lily pad. It was a direct hit, but then bounced right off into the water.

The employee turned back to look at Neil. “Dude, don’t act like you’re the first one to try that stunt.”

Neil became frustrated but felt no need to try again. “What’s even the point?” he asked,

“He says after he loses,” said Kevin, “Spoken like a true coward.”

“What are you going to do with all of these toys anyway?”

“Charity, probably. I mean, fish are really popular with kids. After that fish movie. Finding Elmo or whatever.”

Neil wouldn’t know what movie that was, and would imagine that there would be quite a few fish in movies, but judging by the employee’s reaction it must be something mainstream. He instead moved on to the next booth over, Can a Tin-Can!, and paid for a turn. Neil told himself he’d try earnestly and honestly this time. He lobbed the ball at the cans as hard as he could.

It missed. It bounced off the wall. Neil ducked and knew by the sound it must’ve hit a person. And he knew that there was only one person in the vicinity it could have hit.

So much for honesty.

Neil was afraid to look. He felt bad as he turned back around

Andrew must have either fallen asleep or just became startled in the same way he is when he wakes up. It had been a long time since Neil saw that look on him.

Everyone there pointed to Neil as the culprit.

“I…Andrew…,” said Neil.

“You have thirty seconds left to live.” said Andrew.

“Andrew it was an accident! You know I’d never do that to you on purpose-”

“Twenty-four, twenty-two, twenty, eighteen…”

Neil bolted for it. He dashed past the games, rides, and families and headed for any open space. But strangely enough, for the first time while running off-court, he wasn’t afraid. Perhaps it was due to it being Andrew and the knowledge he would never truly bring harm to him. He felt a grin forming as he found a building with a door, ran up the stairs, and waited for Andrew to find him to see what would happen. Hiding without the danger, now that was something new.

Aaron didn’t want to be here. There were children yelling and crying outside the dressing room. Said dressing room was had a bamboo hut theme. He was wearing swim trunks that he knew he would only wear once. Every now and again he’d hear a different scream, a distant scream, likely from the waterslides he was certain were a hazard of some kind, even if he had yet to go anywhere near them. He stared at the lock. It looked like the lock to a bathroom stall. It was the only barrier between him and out there.

Katelyn had been sending him texts. He knows because they were exchanging them during the bus ride. She was giving him the details of the mall trip she was going on with her friends. Occasionally she’d send a pic asking his opinion on what she was wearing. Now his phone is in a locker so it wouldn’t get wet. She likely wasn’t sending anything now since she knew about this “trip”, but still.

Aaron unlocked the door and walked out. It led out to the Pirate’s Cove, a pool that had a lot of space but the water only went up to your calves. There was a large pirate ship in the middle. There were a lot of children here, especially in this section, but looking further Aaron did notice the packs of college and high school kids hanging around. He spotted Boyd, Walker, and Reynolds around that area, surprise surprise. The college kids were loud and, even from this distance, pretty obnoxious, but they weren’t screaming. The children in Aaron’s vicinity had no problem screaming. He’s glad he isn’t a kid anymore, for a lot of reasons.

He stepped in the water. It was cold at first. He moved around to cool off his feet and find something to do. There were a lot of floats in the water meant to be “fun”. A few crocodiles and whales, a slide shaped like an open oyster. It was a bit creative, he supposed. Just as Aaron began to take in his surroundings, a gush of water sprayed his back. The water was cold.

Turning around, of course, was his cousin on the pirate ship. Nicky was manning a watergun attached to the wall. He let out a laugh to congratulate himself on his perfect aim and timing. There was a line of small children behind him clamoring to use the watergun. Nicky is supposed to be the oldest on the team.

For a split second Aaron was furious enough to run up the ship and throw Nicky overboard, shallow waters and fake crocodiles be damned. But no, if he did that people would notice. Then they’d get “concerned”. Then they’d intervene. It would stop being fun. Aaron didn’t have the energy for that. So let out one grunt and sulked off to another part of the pool.

Aaron found a jellyfish-shaped shower next to the oyster slide. He went under it just to cool off the rest of his body. When he was under the water the screaming children became blocked out for a mere moment. He walked out and sat down in the water. It covered his legs and lapped at his elbows. The sun shined over Aaron’s shoulders. He breathed. This was more like it.

And then there was this damned kid. Not a screaming kid, just a damned one. He was on the oyster slide going down and around again and again, hogging his turn from the other kids. Even when the other kids try to reason with him he wouldn’t stop.

Oh, he doesn’t remind me of anyone. Aaron thought. But he made an attempt to tune it out. He focused on the cool water and his own surroundings. He thought about calling Katelyn before he got on the bus, and then again when he got home. Before he could close his eyes he saw a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. It was a grown man making a beeline to the slide and the other kids. Aaron tensed up, then told himself he was projecting again.

He went for the kid, presumably his father. Oh good someone else, an authority figure, is solving this problem. Swell. Aaron tried to separate himself from the problem once again. But then he heard screaming. It wasn’t a child this time.

The presumed father was yelling at the kid in a way Aaron deeply recognized. Aaron tried eying the lifeguard, but she didn’t seem to notice what was happening. The only option left was for Aaron to tell himself that it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his problem. But then the guy grabbed the kid by his shirt and that’s when he had to do something. Aaron got up from the water.

Aaron considered decking the guy, but that thought brought a flash of Andrew’s former pills and unnatural smile, so no, he’s not doing that today.

“Hey!” Aaron yelled, “What’s your problem?”

The anger and words get mixed together. Something about how this isn’t Aaron’s business because this is not his kid. Then it turns into and argument, a shouting match, he heard a whistle being blown at him and now the lifeguard takes notice.

And then Nicky’s there to break it up. Nicky’s asking what the problem is. The alarm bells went off in Aaron’s head. Why does Nicky always try to get involved.

So Aaron just. Shoved the guy. Shoved him because he could. Just like this guy grabbed his kid by the shirt because he could.  

Nicky ran up to Dan. “Um, we have a bit of a problem-”

Dan held her hand up to Nicky. She held up five fingers, then counted each one down individually until reaching one. Dan took a breath.

“Alrighty,” she said, “Go ahead. Lay it on me.”

For once in a long time, Andrew thinks he’s actually going to kill Neil.  When Kevin called Neil’s phone, it rang from the table they were sitting at before. Kevin isn’t as good at deciphering Andrew’s subtleties as others are, but there was no doubt to him Andrew looked distressed.

“This is absolutely nothing like last time,” Kevin told Andrew, “He’s probably safe and he didn’t run. He’s just being an idiot. But he knows you that’s not what you meant. He knows that above everyone.”

           “Thirty seconds.” Andrew muttered to himself. Then Andrew was the one who ran. He had been searching in the most plausible location Neil could have made it to. When he couldn’t find him there he looked everywhere else.

           It turned out Neil hadn’t gotten far at all. He was in a castle meant for plays for small children, where Andrew had already looked, but he hadn’t realized there was a second floor. When he checked for a second time Neil is just standing there, chatting with one of the employees.

The moment their eyes meet Neil ran again, and he had the audacity laugh while running. On one hand something resembling relief settled within Andrew. On the other, he’s chasing down Neil in the middle of the goddamn heat when he knows he can’t catch up. Andrew is this close to killing him.

Something solid smacked the back of Neil’s head. “Ow!” he looked down and saw his cell phone on the ground. He thought it was in his pocket but apartently it wasn’t. “You almost broke my phone, Andrew-”

           Andrew stormed over to Neil until he was cornered at the barn. He slammed one arm on the wall at Neil’s side.

           “You never let anything be simple, do you?” said Andrew, “Do you think this is a game? I have a mental map of this goddamn park now. What am I supposed to do with the knowledge that the Candy Cane Forest is next to the Tilt-a Whirl and the Frog Hopper? I have to live with that for the rest of my life now and it’s your fucking fault.”

Neil couldn’t stop himself from grinning at Andrew’s words even as his back touched the wall. An alert lit up in his mind how Andrew could corner him at any time but it wasn’t an alarm.

“Um, this was genuinely my bad, Andrew,” said Neil, “I really thought I had my phone on me but I guess I left it somewhere?”

           “I gave you too much time.” Andrew said. Questions were the only things he dodged willingly, “I won’t be so generous next time. Your thirty seconds has been cut down to five.”

           “There’s a next time? I thought you said you were gonna kill me.” said Neil

           “Oh, Neil, of course I am,” Andrew ran a finger down Neil’s chin. There was still an opening at Neil’s side but instead of running he shivered at the touch, “Let me count the ways,” Andrew’s fingers were firm yet tickled Neil’s skin as they ran down his neck. His hand spread out and sank down until his palm pressed over Neil’s windpipe. Neil could feel his pulse pumping under Andrew’s skin. “So many options to choose from. But only one opportunity. It needs to be satisfying.”

           “I never took you for the romantic type.”

Andrew squinted his eyes in disgust. His hand slid down to Neil’s chest and his face hovered closer. “You’re going to shut up now.”

When their noses touched Neil’s smile shrank down and his eyes closed.

“I’m going to shut up now…” Andrew groaned at that.

“Yes or no?” His lips brushed against Neil’s when he spoke.

“God yes…” Andrew’s lips slammed hard against Neil’s for such insolence. After a few good minutes of a warm buzz Andrew’s own Razr ™ phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Aaron.

            yr pet ran away to the barn. leav him whr he belongs

           Andrew rubbed Neil’s thigh to keep him quiet as he texted back.

           Thinkin abt it

           Found him btw. Thx.

“Well, gang, what’s the damage toll today?” Wymack asked. He had a new pair of sunglasses with the price tag still hanging off it.

           “Neil got lost in the park.” said Matt

           Wymack threw his hands up. He appeared to be about to make a joke, but then backtracked.

           “Neil, what the hell? Did something happen?”

           “I’m alright now!” Neil emphasized, “It’s not a big deal anymore!”

“Off to a great start.” said Wymack.

“Aaron nearly got sued for throwing a grown man in a kiddie pool.” said Nicky.

“Will you stop exaggerating shit for drama?!” Aaron said to Nicky, “He ‘threatened’ it but it was empty. It’s dealt with now It isn’t going to become a problem.”

           Wymack rubbed his temples, “Anything else anyone needs to report?”

           “I decapitated a rubber frog with a mallet,” said Kevin, “but the thing was falling apart anyway, so I blame that on poor maintenance and not my superior tactical strategy.”

           “Of course, Kevin. And what were you saying about damage to our equipment?”

           “They can’t fine us for their own incompetence, Coach.”

           “Let’s hope they don’t, Kevin. Let’s hope they don’t.” Wymack turned to the third group, “What about you three? Get in any legal trouble at the waterpark today?”

Matt and Allison had their backs turned to the group at the moment, in a heated debate with Renee.

           “See? He didn’t technically drown anybody.” said Allison.

           “Once again, I didn’t say drown. I a tactical advantage.” said Renee

           “But does it count as tactics if he’s just submerged?” asked Matt, “Was his head under the water? How long was he under? Did he cough at any time? Yo Nicky, you were a witness weren’t you? We need you to testify!”

           “Hey!” said Wymack, “We’re trying to leave here!”

           “I scored the digits of four guys and one girl,” said Allison, “I’ll likely never use them, but hey, you never know for a rainy day.”

           “I made twenty dollars while enjoying myself,” said Renee, “Thank you, Aaron.”

           Aaron had no idea what part he had in this and didn’t intend to ask.

           “Wait!” said Allison, “What about the Neil bets?!”

           “Oh yeah,” said Renee, “Make that fifty dollars.”

           “Wait, Neil, you didn’t sustain any bodily injuries, did you?” asked Nicky, “Cause even if it’s a tiny papercut that’s thirty right there.”

“’Neil Bets’?” Neil asked, even if he had a large suspicion of what those entailed.

           “Yeah, obvious things you do. Like when you say ‘I’m fine’ or don’t know a movie reference or wear mismatched clothes. It’s like taking a shot, but with money.”

           “I feel like I should feel something about that,” said Neil, “but I mostly don’t care.”

           “Finally, he gets it.” said Andrew.

           “I need a vacation from this vacation,” said Wymack.

 “It looks like you survived.” Matt said to Dan, “How you holding up?”

           Dan breathed in and out. “Well, I did get some sun. I got dragged into a few incidents for a few minutes but they pretty much cleared up by the time I got there. Overall it was okay.”

           Matt handed a plush frog plush over to Dan.

           “You won this?”

           “Maybe, maybe not.”

           “Aw, it’s soft! It’ll make a great pillow on the ride back. You’re the best.”

           When Matt hugged Dan, careful around her shoulders, he could have almost sworn he witnessed a green glow hovering above the chess tattoo eying him. Kevin Day, semi-professional sports player, professional celebrity, aspiring Olympian, survivor, would not stoop so low to start a war over stolen carnival prizes. Despite how earned they were. But he would make sure Matt would be miserable when the end of August hit.

Neil purchased ten temporary tattoos from the gift shop at Andrew’s request.

           “Punishment for what you put me through today.” Andrew said.

           “Andrew, they’re like less than fifty cents each.” said Neil.  That almost seemed like a challenge so Andrew grabbed two Super Soakers off the wall and dumped them at Neil’s feet.

           As they waited for the bus to arrive Neil wet the sponge for the tattoos with his water bottle. They picked a ship for Neil’s neck and skull for Andrew’s cheek.

           “You better not fuck up my beautiful face.” said Andrew.

           “It’s called a temporary tattoo for a reason.” said Neil.

           “Your hair is temporary. You’d have a problem if I ripped that out the wrong way.”

           “Always violence with you.”

           “Yeah? Neil, I’m getting a skull on my face.”

           Neil laughed. “A skull tattoo on your face is less violent. More…a cry for help.”

           “Face tattoos are a cry for help in general.” Andrew said loud enough for the words to reach Kevin. He got no response but Neil saw Kevin glance in their direction.

           When Andrew pulled the white strip off Neil asked him how it looked. “Stupid and fake. Fits you perfect.”

Neil removed the square from Andrew’s cheek. The skull had a rose near it’s chin. Neil found it a little endearing. “It’s not as serious as it thinks it is. Fits you perfect.”

            Andrew shoved Neil on the shoulder for that.

When the bus arrived they sat next to each other. Neil kept using the sponge to keep Andrew’s face cool.  

           “You want me to play music on the way back?” Neil asked. He wasn’t certain if he’d get the same answer as he did on the ride up here but he was willing to try.

           “Do whatever you want. But I’m gonna fall asleep halfway through.”

           Neil grinned. “Oh good. That means I can play whatever I want.”

           “Fuck off.” Neil placed an earbud in his left ear then delicately did the same for Andrew.

By the time it moved Andrew was already nodding off from the mixture of exhaustion and running and his latest bout of almost-feeing.

           “Neil?”

           “Yeah?”

           “It’s a yes for my shoulders tonight.” said Andrew.

           Neil understood. As Andrew looked out the window and began to doze off Neil lowered his head on his shoulder. Looking at Andrew, his Andrew’s skin felt cooler to the touch even through he never went in the water. It must be contagious.

As the bus moved on and the scenery passed Neil found his eyes closing too.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Harley - No One Disrespects the Queen One Shot

Ok, so this was a oneshot I did a while ago after someone gave me a request, but I've had a lot of comments asking if I'd do a Harley one.

At the moment I've basically edited it ever so slightly to just put Harley as the main character rather than 'reader' and a few tweaks - but very few alterations to the main text so it's not a 'new story' just some people might prefer it to be a Harley x Joker instead.

As the last version was this has major triggers for anyone who is anorexic and this story is only based off my own experiences and nothing else so I apologise if some people don't see it as accurate!

TRIGGERWARNING!!!!! PLS DON'T READ IF ANYTHING ABOUT ANOREXIA TRIGGERS YOU!

MASTERLIST

Harley rolled over once more, irritably smacking away the hair that persisted in falling on her face and only adding to the suffocation of insomnia as she tossed and turned. She now faced across the bed, her eyes immediately falling on the familiar dark shape next to her, his skin so pale it was practically glowing in the dark.

An unknown time ago she might have tried to snuggle into him now – his drowsy self being his most agreeable self – generally – and so he was more likely to give into her constant want of attention and grant her the comfort of his arms. But tonight, she shifted further away from him, like she had done for a while now, pulling the duvet tighter around her cold pale shoulders.

She couldn’t remember exactly when she started removing herself from his presence, but the why was permanently etched in her mind. Every time he touched her she was disgusted with herself. His fingers wandering her skin no longer turned her on like they once had, now they screamed out all her imperfections, that roll of fat on her side she was trying desperately to get rid of, the pudgy bit of her stomach which forced her to hold her breath constantly to not see it, the persistent fold under her arms that she just wished she could take a knife to and cut out.

Even just a hug made her acutely aware of all these flaws and she couldn’t how J – the man who seemed to know and see everything that went on – could possibly miss feeling these same problem areas. He would get rid of her for sure – she was perfect enough. And that was what J deserved. Absolute perfection.

Which was not her.

So why was she her? Why did she think she was good enough to lie with him in his huge queen-size bed in his penthouse?

She couldn’t place it and, not for the first time, she thought about leaving. Leaving before he made her leave – or killed her. Because he would. He would realise eventually that he didn’t need her. Didn’t want her. That he could do better.

She could feel herself getting worked up as she lay there in the dark. The hot burning in her eyes of angry tears. She bet he already had another girl. That was why he felt it was ok to keep her around. J could have anyone he wanted, why would he settle for just one? He wouldn’t.

The minute she had started on this path of thought the voices in her head had soon grabbed controlled, pulling her mind deeper into the depressing hole of self-doubt. That’s right. They crowed in her ear, you need to be better. They were right. She did need to be better. Do better. Otherwise she’d lose her puddin’ forever. She could practically feel herself gaining weight as she lay there.

She sat up quickly, her head spinning from the quick movement. She tried to bounce out of bed, but she couldn’t find the energy, instead just sliding herself across the sheets. Suddenly, she felt a strong, muscular arm wrap around her waist and pull her backwards.

Her collided with the Joker’s solid bare chest, “Where do you think you’re going, doll?” Came the sleepy growl in her ear.

She didn’t want to look at him. If she did she wouldn’t want to leave. Those blue eyes would catch her. “I – I can’t sleep.” She muttered, pulling weakly at his restraint, all her muscles aching from the effort. The voices in her head were louder now Demanding. She needed to be up and on her feet or else she was lazy. Failing.

The self-hatred fuelled her and she could ignore the ache, pulling more violently against J’s arm and writhing under his grip till he released her. She was jumped up and out of bed energetically, landing on her feet, her legs almost immediately complaining under her weight, any energy she had, now completely spent. But she ignored it. She was used to the aches and pains by now. They were normal in her mind. Everyone must feel like she did. There was nothing else.

Movement caught the eye and she turned to see J moving to get out of bed. “Puddin’!” She whined at him “Noooo.” She pouted, leaning over to press her cold hand to his solid chest. “You need ya’ sleep.”

“So do you, doll.” He grumbled. She looked at him properly now, though she knew she shouldn’t she could help but admire him. Hi green hair - usual so neatly styled – was dishevelled, rouge strands falling forward and framing his face, his pallor skin, tight over his sharp cheekbones, the rings under his eyes still dark and the eyes themselves their clear blue, though slightly clouded with sleep.

He was beautiful in his own way, she thought, admiring every inch of him. To some people his appearance was terrifying, few others found in almost intoxicating. I was one of those. The vibrant red lips were addictive, his carved muscles drew her touch and his eyes captivated her.

And that’s where she found herself lost now, revelling in his perfection. The voices soon invaded though. How could she compare? How could she hold her puddin’? She was nothing compared to him – body and brains.

“I went’a bed early.” She lied when she noticed he was still her as she stared, lost in him. Her eyes pleaded with him hard, the classic puppy eyes which she knew he found too annoying to ignore. “I’m fine, puddin’! Just ‘cause I can’t sleep doesn’t me you shouldn’t!” She reasoned and he just stared back, something calculating behind his eyes – eyes that penetrated her own and made her sure he could see through her white lie.

But then J dropped back down onto the bed, turning over so his back was to her. She felt the gesture like a well-aimed punch to her chest, but she knew the fight was over. He was letting her go. She headed out the room silently, before he changed his mind.

Harley wandered around the penthouse aimlessly, not having any motivation or energy to move faster, and not sure what to do with herself. She got bored enough as it was during the day, but all these extra hours made it even more difficult to keep herself entertained.

She vaguely remembered a time when it wasn’t like this, when her days were full and she felt she was living for something. But nothing appealed to her anymore. She couldn’t even stand to be around J much anymore, not when she felt he was always watching her, picking out all her flaws and, most likely, with another woman most of the time.

Harley wandered past her gun which was sat on the glass table in the corridor. She picked it up, admiring the personalised design. J had got it for her back when they had first met, when she had committed herself to him. She soon found herself soon putting the gun back down. She didn’t want to think about J at the moment. It hurt that she wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

She wandered into the main living room area, noticing her baseball bat was still sat by the sofa where she had left it ages ago. She eyed it for a moment but decided against moving it. She couldn’t be bothered.

She never could.

She kept walking, moving round the sofa to stand with it behind her, ready for her to fall back onto the plush, expensive cushions. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Her feet protested underneath her, but she ignored it, bending for the remote and the screen flickering to life. The TV was already on the right channel, but she flicked through the options mindlessly anyway until she settled on the original programme.

So, Harley continued to stand there, refusing to give into her limbs and collapse onto the chair behind her, even pacing to prevent the urge, as she watched the cupcake competition currently playing on the huge flat screen in front of her.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but when she glanced out the window, the sun was fully visible in the sky now, though still low and only visible due to her high position in the penthouse, towering above or alongside the other skyscrapers. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, wondering if she had stood long enough to earn the right to sit down.

Probably not.

She needed to move then.

She left the TV playing, blind to the noise now her mind was focused elsewhere. She moved to the kitchen, flicking the switch so the room filled with harsh, almost clinical, lighting.

Almost robotically she reached around the kitchen, digging out the stuff she needed. She would bake. She loved to cook recently – baking especially. It was one of the few things that held her attention nowadays. J hadn’t been thrilled at the start. Harley wasn’t the best cook, and she wasn’t a tidy one either, the kitchen always ending up coated in flour or baking mixture. She also hated cleaning so often left the room filthy, wandering off for someone else to have to deal with it.

But she did it so much now that she was slowly improving. After J had been brave enough to be persuaded to try a cookie again even he had to admit she’d got better – hell, he hadn’t even grimaced at the flavour for once.

Now she loved to bake him cookies and cupcakes which he couldn’t resist thanks to her discovery of his sweet tooth. He grumbled about the fact that everything was shaped in hearts, was usually pink and often had ‘puddin’ written over them, but that never stopped him eating most of them – the rest soon vanishing when some of the henchmen came to pick up their orders.

And so, Harley spent the early hours of the morning filling the penthouse full of the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon until the clock told her it was exactly 8am. She finished what she was doing and finally allowed herself to eat something, though her stomach had clawed at her for attention since she had woken up. She turned to the marble island in the centre of the kitchen, seeking out the fruit bowl. An apple. She grabbed it and went to work, cutting it into the finest slices she could manage and then weighing it on the set of scales – after wiping it down to ensure there couldn’t be a trace of anything left on it from her recent baking session.

50g. That was 26 calories. She knew that.

She took a small handful of slices from the scale. 42g. Good. She was safe that the scales couldn’t lie to her. It was definitely 50gs worth of calories or less.

She mentally noted the calories down in her mind. Breakfast sorted. 26 calories – or less.

Harley munched on the apple, trying to eat slowly, glad she had cut the apple up so thinly. A trick to making her feel like she was eating more than she was.

She felt herself shiver even though the room was still hot from the heat the oven emitted. She really wanted a hot drink – she craved coffee and the could practically smell the beans that J often brewed, which were stored on the other side of the room. But she didn’t make herself a coffee. She couldn’t afford the calories – all 2-9 of them (depending on who you asked – 18 in Harley’s book because that was the highest she had found when she had searched it one day).

She shifted her weight on her feet, refusing to sit on the stools next to her. She wished she didn’t always wake up so early. If she got up later there was less time in the day to be hungry, if she managed to sleep later, she could eat later, then she would get hungry later and might even be able to skip lunch.

All too soon she had demolished her pathetic pile of apple and she considered what to do next as she scrutinized the cupcakes that sat cooling on the side. Today was technically her day off training – but that didn’t mean it was her day off exercise.

She slipped back into the bedroom and grabbed a change of clothes, quickly changing and pulling a jumper over her goosebump riddled arms. It was July. Must be global warming or something, she thought to herself.

Harley then took their private elevator down to the ground floor. She received a few weird looks on the way out of the building but, on recognising who she was, they kept that traps shut and their gaze diverted. Business men rushed past her, late for meetings or something, and one person even collided with her. Before she might have turned on him and taught the thug a few lessons none too kindly, but right now she couldn’t be bothered. A small snarl in his direction was enough for him to realise who he had hit and he had turned tailed and legged it anyway.

She stepped out into the early morning wind that wound its way down the street and hugged her arms to herself tightly. She would just go for a walk. That was all. She headed off – into the wind so she could fight against the gusts for the maximum calorie burn.

She was going for a walk, but she soon found herself running. She couldn’t help it. The voices taunted her that she could be doing more, making excuses that it would make her better and her reasonable voice even added that it might warm her up.

She ran till she couldn’t breathe anymore, choking in exhaustion and then walked to catch her breath before continuing on. She didn’t pay attention to the people around her, most not even paying attention to her. After all, she didn’t look like herself. Nothing about her screamed Harley Quinn. She didn’t want to attract attention to herself anymore. She was too ashamed of herself.

She ran a large loop that ended back at the penthouse and took a good hour -  An hour and ten to be precise. New record. And one she would have to match or beat next time. She could never allow herself to do less than a previous run – that wasn’t trying hard enough to the voices.

She walked without thinking back into the bedroom, only realising as she headed to the bathroom that the bed was empty. J must be up and working, she wondered if he’d found the cakes.

Soon the sound of water hitting the shower floor filled the huge luxurious bathroom. She undressed, having to pause for a moment when she felt a wave of light-headedness wash over her. She perched on the side of the large bath tub, eventually allowing herself to slip off and sink to the tiled floor, her knees folded into her chest and her head in her hands as she tried to breathe evenly, momentarily terrified something bad was happening to her.

She tried to breathe evenly, waiting for her head to feel clearer, a small part of her worried if she had been overdoing it recently, but that was quickly quashed down and, after a few moments, I felt steady enough to push myself wearily to my feet.

Standing upright made her feel woozy again but she persevered anyway, slipping into the shower and moving slowly until she felt a bit better – though it was probably the speed she always moved. Everything she did was now was slow. But everyone had days like that right? She thought, when you didn’t have the energy or motivation to move any faster than one slow pace. That was just life – she just happen to do it a lot lately. But was it really slow after all – was she just being silly?

She stood pondering this as she let the hot water fall around her. Suddenly hard, cold arms wrapped around stomach. She flinched at the cool contact on an area she felt so sensitive about, gasping in surprise, at the cold.

“Jeez, doll, this water is boiling.” Came the familiar growl behind her and she spun around to come face to face with J, still fully clothed, behind me.

“What are you doin’ puddin’?” She asked in disbelief, staring at J’s shirt which hung open as though he had been in the middle of getting dressed, the water now soaking into the sleeves.

“Trying to see if my little kitten wanted to get hot in a different way” He purred, teasingly pulling her towards him “Other than pouring lava on her skin.” He growled, his hands trailing over her skin and making goose bumps erupt across her skin in a non-sexual way. She shivered.

“Ooo doll, do that again.” J purred, pulling her closer so she was pressed against his muscular chest, his cold skin and damp shirt, seeming to pull the heat from her body.

“Puddin’, no…” Harley whined, pushing away from him and stepping back under the powerful shower, hugging her arms to myself and embracing the heat that washed over her.

“Excuse me, doll?” Asked J incredulously, his grin dropping and his eyes becoming dark – like they did when anyone refused him something.

“I’m sorry, puddin!” Harley apologised quickly, but still backing away as far as she could under the water – she hated disappointing him and knew the wrath that lay under his cool exterior. “I’m just not in the mood.”

He ignored her apology and left in a huff, leaving her alone, and feeling even colder, in the shower.

Harley didn’t clash with J for the rest of the day – mostly because J had left the penthouse after the shower event and, when he came back, he shut himself away like usual in his office.

The relative peace only lasted till that evening however, when J told Harley they were going to the club that night.

“No thanks, puddin’.” Harley had dismissed, giving her familiar answer as she lounged on the sofa (her first sit down in over 4 hours).

He frowned, his eyes darkening immediately again. He didn’t say anything in reply but he didn’t move either. Harley had expected a slightly annoyed answer and then leave – maybe in a huff, but she didn’t have the energy to care. When J didn’t do anything however, she turned her head to look at him, frowning in question.

“It wasn’t a request this time, doll.” J growled in warning.

Harley’s eyes widened slightly, surprised his anger. What he forcing her to go out with him? “I don’t want to go, puddin’.” She whined, but she tried to put some firmness behind it.

“I don’t care what you want, doll.” He purred dangerously.

That hurt.

“You can’t force me to go out with you, J.” Harley told him, but her voice faltered slightly under his gaze and she could feel her pulse rising under her skin. He was beginning to scare her.

“Kitten,” He warned, “you’re pushing me and I’m not sure you want to.” There was no smile on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes fierce.

She was becoming scared now. Was this it? Was he finally going to get rid of her? Had he finally become sick of all of her flaws?

She hated letting J down by not wanting to go with him - she hadn’t been to the club in over a month now, but J went nearly every night to one or another of his businesses - but she was tired, both physically and mentally. The voices in her head seemed confused too - if Harley went to the club then all the movement would burn more calories than just staying here, but she was exhausted and the idea of trying to make it through the whole night trying to look alive and alert wasn’t appealing to her.

She watched J warily. She wasn’t sure what to say to him now, he was still frightening her and she was scared to push him any further and she wasn’t sure what she could say to placate him. All that was running through her head at the moment were her usual excuses as to why she didn’t want to go – too tired, she didn’t even drink, he didn’t need her there. But she knew J didn’t care about her excuses.

She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, keeping her gaze down. He could still feel his eyes glaring darkly at her and - if she looked at him now - she was sure she would see the anger darkening his eyes to a stormy blue.

When the silence between them became too much, Harley had to look up at him just to try to gage what he was feeling. It was worse than she thought and she was worried what she was seeing was not truly anger, but hurt, as though he was in some sort of pain.

That sight burned her. Broke her. She had to look away, concentrating instead, back onto the thick carpet under her socks, tracing the pattern with her eyes.

“I’m sorry, puddin’” She mumbled at the floor.

“You’re sorry?” He whined, mimicking her cruelly. “You’re sorry?“ he asked again. “Your apologies are like cheesy pop songs doll, they just keep playing till people are sick of them!” He sneered.

She didn’t know what to say to that - clearly an apology wouldn’t be right - so she continued to stare at the floor. It was comfier like this. She liked the fact her neck hung loose, no energy needed to hold it up. She liked the fact she was collapsed on the sofa, all day she wished she could have done it.

“Look at you.” he snarled venomously, gesturing to her as she sat - probably looking like a rejected puppet collapsed against the arm of the sofa and lost amongst the many layers of baggy jumpers and hoodies she wore, "pathetic.”

“You’re weak.” He spat, “No spark, no flare, no energy. What is the use of you anymore?” he demanded.

Harley shook her head at the carpet, each word stabbing and shooting through her painfully like he was firing the weapons she knew were in his pockets. What was the point in her? What was her use anymore? She could feel the hot tears forming in her eyes and she tried to hold back the tide that now threatened to overwhelm, covering her face with her hands as if somehow that might help to hold it all back.

“Pathetic.” J snarled again before he spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving Harley curled into the sofa, no longer able to hold back the emotions. She let out a single hiccupping sob and that just triggered everything else to come pouring out until she was blubbering into the expensive sofa arm.

Shortly afterwards she heard the roar of an engine from the direction of the window and the screech of a wheel that told her that J had left, and new, more intense sobs racked her body until she was gripping fists of her hair and pulling them in misery and frustration.

  She went to bed early that night, unable to concentrate on anything but on how low she was feeling. How nothing was right. How she was starving and wanted food. How she was in pain and hated her workouts, dreaded them every day. How she hated that she hurt people around her – especially J. She didn’t blame him for going off on her, everything he said had been true. She was weak, she was pathetic.

With all these things replaying in her head, she slept fitfully that night – never seeming to manage for than 30 minutes before she was awoken by her own mind.

That was why - when the Joker finally returned to the suite at 4am the following morning – Harley was lying awake. Hungry, thirsty, depressed and stressed, yet too exhausted to anything about any of these things, she just lay staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

When she heard the front door open she knew it would have to be him – security was tight around here, very tight. Not even a henchman was allowed up here if J wasn’t around. None the less she automatically panicked, her every sense focused on his movements through the pent house as she tried to detect when he was getting close to the room.

After a few long agonising minutes, the hallway light was switched on illuminating the outline of the door directly in front of her. She heard the door open and a crack of light enlarged as the bedroom door opened to reveal J’s dark shadow in the doorway. Harley blinked at the sudden brightness that filled the room.

The silence between us stretched on. She didn’t move and neither did J.

She could have pretended to sleep. Delayed the conversation, maybe even removed the chance to have it.

But she was tired, achy, depressed and starving.

“Help me.” She whimpered into the dark, too exhausted to cry, but still feeling the stinging feeling in her eye.

She thought J’s shadow would leave her then. Turn and walk away from the pitiful girl lying on the bed, unable to find anything within her to even sit up. All she did was wait for the shadow to leave the doorway and for the sound of receding footsteps.

But they didn’t.

The shadow moved, but not away. It came into the room, J’s steps softened by the thick carpet underfoot. Harley closed her eyes, no longer sure she wanted to do this now.

The next thing she knew she was being scooped up by strong arms and pulled upright with very little effort until she was cradled in his arms. His chest was hard and cold, but she found it comforting and solid and she didn’t care that she was shivering.

“I thought you would have left.” He murmured so quietly she almost couldn’t hear.

She shook her head – hard as it was to do when she was pressed so tightly to his chest.

“The one time, kitten, that the I’m glad you’re not like you use to be.” He said, and Harley pulled her head up to look him in the eyes, frowning with confusion.

“The old you would never had let me get away with the shit I said to you, doll. You would have up and left whilst preaching about some right you had or something.” He chuckled quietly to himself.  Harley just cuddled back into his solid chest, showing him in her own silent way that she had no intention to leave. His arms tightened around her even more.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, happy to be in each-others company. It was what she had always wanted between them – for him to slow down for a moment, and she guessed she needed to as well. It was a rare kind of sincerity with the Joker.

“I just want to be perfect for you J.” She finally admitted, lifting her head slightly so she could speak.

He didn’t say anything and she had to wonder if he heard me. She buried her face back once more into his chest, embarrassed for confessing something so personal when he didn’t even care to listen.

“You think I would waste my time on someone who wasn’t already perfect?” He asked, and she felt the vibration of his voice through his chest, it comforted her.

She pulled herself away from him again so she could look up at his face, “But you’re always around all those pretty girls at the club – I’m nothing like them.” Harley pointed out.

“You don’t think I know that, doll?” He demanded with a frown and she let her head drop – he was annoyed that she wasn’t like them then. “I’m glad you’re not, doll.” He said, surprising her, “I’ve been around those sorts of girls for a very long time and none of them have ever come home with me.” He told me, “The first night I saw you I made sure you did.” There was another pause of silence, both of them lost in their own minds. “That was a long time ago though.” J reminisced, “A time when you looked very different.”

“But why - ?” She pressed, confused by what he was saying – it didn’t make sense to her.

“Because doll, I chose you for more than you’re looks – which I hasten to add are more than adequate!” He said hotly, as though annoyed at her continual denial of this, “And I’ll be sure to correct you when you say otherwise.” He added. “But doll, the first thing I saw with you wasn’t your killer dress or your murderous curves,” He purred teasingly, running his hands up her body, still holding her upright in bed, and she squirmed under his touch, uncharacteristically trying to hold back giggles, “It was your personality, your humour, your energy. All of which you are now severely lacking in, kitten.” He pointed out.

At these last words, any happiness she had built from being curled up with him, crumbled. “I’m a failure.” She blubbered, feeling herself close to sobbing again.

“You’re not a failure doll,” J said, almost softly, though there was firmness to his voice, “I’m afraid you’re just sane.” He said solemnly, “It’s a terrible disease that grips you – it makes you care too much, it makes you gullible, it makes you greedy for something better and never content to revel in the present.” He rattled off passionately. He switched his arm placement so he supported her with only one arm, the other he brought up to her face and tenderly wiped away the tears on her cheeks, “It’s a terrible disease,” He repeated, “It always makes you look for the reason to cry, not to laugh.” He added with a sad smile that she could just make out in the poor lighting.

Harley gave him a weak smile in return, probably looking a state even in the darkness, and her smile dropped again at the thought. J must have noticed because he moved his hand from her cheek to her chin, tilting her face up so she looked at him in the eye. “That why I’m here though, doll.” He said with a small smile, “I’m the opposite of you, you’re my sanity doll, and I’m your crazy.” He purred lowly, tilting her face more and pulling her up as he leant down and he kissed her.

  “I’ll help you.” He promised, “No one disrespects my Queen, especially not the Queen herself.” 

[troger]

How Trump Grew His Support Among Latinos

He understood what motivated his voters, and he made sure they knew he did.

Geraldo L. Cadava

History professor at Northwestern University

Latinos are not a uniform voting bloc. We are spread across the country and have wildly different backgrounds. Over the years, Latinos ourselves have struggled to articulate what unites and divides us. The first question I ask in my Latino History course at Northwestern University is “Who, or what, is a ‘Latino’ anyway?” The class never resolves the question, but the students go back to it over and over as they study the evolving conceptions of Latinos.

We are so diverse that we often say the “Latino vote” doesn’t really exist. Yet certain trends emerge when you look closely at the voting preferences of our motley demographic. According to my calculations based on early exit polls, almost 60 percent of eligible Latinos voted this year—more than 19 million voters—compared with about 50 percent in prior elections. That turnout means that a huge number voted for Joe Biden, but also that a large number voted for Donald Trump. Trump earned 28 percent of Latino votes in 2016 and approximately 32 percent in 2020. He was able to expand his support not only in southern Florida, where many typically conservative Cuban Americans live, but also among Latinos of different stripes across the country—in Arizona, California, Colorado, Nevada, North Carolina, Texas, and Wisconsin.

Read: What liberals don’t understand about pro-Trump Latinos

How did a president who has continually maligned immigrants grow his portion of Latino voters? Hispanic Republicans and Latino Trump supporters are not “self-hating,” as the actor John Leguizamo and many others have argued. I’ve studied Republicans’ relationship with Latinos over the decades and have conducted many interviews with voters and political operatives during this election. The political beliefs of these voters are deeply held and sincere. Trump understood what motivated his Latino supporters—economic individualism, religious liberty, and law and order—and he made sure they knew he did.     

In almost every election since Richard Nixon’s in 1972, the Republican presidential candidate has won from a quarter to a third of the Latino vote, even as the GOP tacked right on immigration and border enforcement. In 2004, Latinos, drawn to George W. Bush’s moderation and compassion on a range of issues, including immigration and bilingual education, gave him about 40 percent of their votes. Trump was a very different candidate and president from Bush, but a sizable percentage of Latinos had come to identify as loyal Republicans, and they wouldn’t switch sides easily.

Trump’s administration built on existing Republican support by relentlessly courting Latinos since 2017, focusing on his economic policies and support for religious freedom. Even as Trump made family separation and the border wall central parts of his platform, the White House engaged Latino business owners early and often. Trump lowered taxes, slashed financial regulations, and named a Latina Small Business Administration administrator, Jovita Carranza, who helped Latino business owners. He also claimed credit in speeches for low unemployment numbers, rising rates of homeownership, and growing family incomes for Latinos, trends that started during the Barack Obama years.

While Democrats focused on Trump’s slanders, they missed a bigger picture. Take, for example, the week in early July when Goya CEO Robert Unanue’s praise of Trump resulted in calls to boycott Goya products. That week as a whole was about Trump’s relentless recruitment of Latino voters—the visit by Mexico’s president to celebrate the U.S.-Mexico-Canada Agreement; the announcement of the Hispanic Prosperity Initiative, which promised more support for Latino business owners, charter schools, and Hispanic-serving institutions; and the meeting with Southcom, a joint military command based in Florida that’s responsible for operations in Central America, South America, and the Caribbean, during which the president promised to halt the flow of drugs from Latin America.

Trump also successfully exploited the economic frustrations of many Latinos, young and old. He clearly stated that he had answers to their problems, would help them find jobs, and would grow the economy. This rhetoric resonated with those in South Texas, a heavily Mexican American, traditionally Democratic area of the state with high rates of poverty, poor educational outcomes, and health disparities, including a particularly high rate of COVID-19 infection and mortality.

Read: The neglect of Latino voters

Republican boosters in the region talked about improved quality of life, business opportunities, and educational access to institutions such as the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley. Trump amplified this narrative of regional progress and gave many in the area hope. Monica De La Cruz–Hernandez, a Republican who narrowly lost her race for a congressional seat in the Rio Grande Valley, told me that Trump had helped Mexican Americans “find their voice.” Now they’re “walk-away Democrats” who shifted their support to Trump more dramatically than Latinos in other parts of the country.

Trump aggressively talked about law and order in a way that appealed particularly to Latino men in the Border Patrol, military, and police departments. In the days before the election, Latino leaders of the National Border Patrol Council expressed support for Trump’s immigration and border policies. Art Del Cueto, the council’s vice president, said, “We must continue to support the rule of the law and continue to support President Trump.” Trump also received the endorsement of the National Latino Peace Officers Association Advocacy.

The Trump administration focused on Latino churchgoers, deputizing Vice President Mike Pence to visit gatherings with Latino evangelicals and tell them that Trump was the defender of their religious liberties. Members of this religious group have deeply ingrained anti-abortion-rights beliefs, and they also responded to the administration’s support for religious charter schools and its general desire to blur the lines between religion and public life. Latino evangelicals aren’t all Republicans. One of their leaders, Gabriel Salguero, has called them classic swing voters whose political allegiance is divided. But they do support Republicans at greater rates—46 percent—than the general Latino population does.

Finally, the idea, spread through scaremongering campaigns, that most Democrats are socialists worried Latinos whose families had fled leftist-controlled governments in Latin America. Socialism was also shorthand for a range of ideas related to government overreach in healthcare, the economy, and education.  

Latinos certainly contributed to Biden’s margin of victory. The former vice president’s campaign and its pollster Latino Decisions point to the dramatic rise in Latino participation. However, the campaign has been criticized for not beginning its outreach earlier. It didn’t really start until the days before the Democratic National Convention and focused on us during Hispanic Heritage Month in the fall, despite the fact that Latino political strategists have long argued that a candidate can’t expect our support if he shows up only in the final months or weeks of a campaign.

But to believe that earlier outreach would have led to a dramatically different result is to ignore the political agency of Latino Republicans and Trump supporters. Republicans in 2024 will look to replicate Trump’s relative success among Latinos, perhaps without the racism. Democrats, meanwhile, should grapple with the reality that a growing number of Latinos voted for the Republican Party’s policies. They should engage Latinos across the country, beginning today, to understand how to better represent their preferences on issues including healthcare, education, the economy, and immigration. If Democrats hope to reverse the gains Republicans made this year, they should also pay attention to what about Trump drew Latinos in.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

Geraldo Cadava, a history professor at Northwestern University, is the author of The Hispanic Republican: The Shaping of an American Political Identity, from Nixon to Trump.

[newssplashy]

NEW YORK — It was less than three weeks until Primary Day and, on first blush, the poll that Rep. Joseph Crowley had been shown by his team of advisers was encouraging: He led his upstart rival, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, by 36 percentage points.

It was the last poll Crowley’s campaign would conduct.

Despite his many reputed strengths — his financial might as one of the top fundraisers in Congress, his supposed stranglehold on Queens politics as the party boss, his seeming deep roots in an area he had represented for decades — Crowley was unable to prevent his stunning and thorough defeat Tuesday night.

Ocasio-Cortez bested Crowley by 15 percentage points, delivering a victory expected to make her, at 28, the youngest woman ever elected to Congress.

If it takes a perfect storm to dislodge a congressional leader, then Ocasio-Cortez and her crusading campaign about class, race, gender, age, absenteeism and ideology proved to be just that. She and her supporters swept up Crowley in a redrawn and diversifying 14th Congressional District where the incumbent, despite two decades in Congress, had never run in a competitive primary.

She flipped the levers of power he was supposed to have — his status as a local party boss and his money — against him, using them as ammunition in an insurgent bid that cut down a possible successor to Nancy Pelosi and the No. 4 Democrat in the House.

No single factor led to Crowley’s defeat, more than a half-dozen officials inside and close to his campaign said in interviews, most on the condition of anonymity. It was demographics and generational change, insider versus outsider, traditional tactics versus modern-age digital organizing. It was the cumulative weight of them all.

The multiple and overlapping layers of the biggest victory yet by the emboldened left of the Democratic Party — Ocasio-Cortez is a socialist — has complicated the calculation for party leaders scrambling to answer what, or who, comes next. Pelosi played down its significance on Capitol Hill on Wednesday; others signaled the alarm for change.

“It’s a wake-up for everybody,” said Michael Blake, a vice chairman of the Democratic National Committee and a New York assemblyman who represents a nearby district in the Bronx.

Blake said Crowley, 56, ran into a charismatic younger challenger whose politics and profile — a woman with Puerto Rican roots — matched a diverse Queens and Bronx district, where 49 percent of residents are Hispanic and fewer than 1 in 5 are white.

“A lot of people of color were excited about a young woman of color,” Blake said. “People say demographics are destiny, and you can’t ignore that reality when looking at the numbers there.”

But Ocasio-Cortez, in an interview Wednesday, dismissed race as a driving factor in her win, although she had regularly highlighted her heritage on the campaign trail.

“It would be a huge mistake to just say that this election happened because X demographics live here. That is to absolutely miss the entire point of what we just accomplished,” Ocasio-Cortez said.

A former organizer for Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., Ocasio-Cortez won across the district, carrying Crowley’s home borough of Queens by a larger margin than she won the Bronx. “She won virtually everywhere,” said Steven Romalewski, a researcher at the Center for Urban Research at the City University of New York Graduate Center, who mapped the results.

She drew support for her progressive platform that included abolishing the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, Medicare for all and a federal jobs guarantee. Sanders had carried more than 41 percent of the vote in the district in the 2016 presidential primary.

“Her strongest support came from areas that were not predominantly Hispanic,” Romalewski said, citing Astoria, where white residents are nearly half the population.

To prepare for the race, Crowley’s campaign commissioned its first poll early in 2018; the results showed him far ahead. But the poll also had some worrisome numbers: He was remarkably little known back home, despite his many years in office, and his favorability rating was also low, according to people familiar with the findings.

Crowley’s family lives in the Washington area — a fact Ocasio-Cortez used as a cudgel. And the district itself had been redrawn following the 2010 census. This year was Crowley’s first primary since then.

By early June, the Crowley campaign was already on high alert. He had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on mailers and voter outreach, but Crowley remained mired in the low 50s in the head-to-head matchup — a danger zone for any incumbent.

His bank account showed $1 million for the race’s final sprint. But Federal Election Commission records reveal that nearly two-thirds of that money was earmarked for the general election. He couldn’t spend it on the primary.

In a pre-election interview, Ocasio-Cortez said Crowley’s blitz of activity and mail — one official involved in his campaign said some voters received more than a dozen pieces of literature — had rebounded to her benefit.

“It’s funny,” she said. “A lot of people find our campaign because he comes out for the first time and they’re like ‘Who’s this? And who’s running against him?'”

At the end of May, Ocasio-Cortez released a two-minute biographical video that went viral, the latest instance of this “girl from the Bronx,” as she called herself, catching fire on social media.

Her video, and a competing three-minute clip that Crowley released days before the election, told the story of the race.

She rode subway trains in hers. He drove a car in his.

Crowley fawned over his district’s diversity and pitched himself as an ally. “The one thing about my life experience,” he said in the opening, “is the ability to put myself in other people’s shoes.” She pitched herself as a member of the community itself.

His video had fewer than 90,000 views on Twitter by Primary Day. Hers had more than 500,000.

There were some frustrations with Crowley and the Queens machine’s approach against Ocasio-Cortez’s more nimble social media presence.

“We had people running this like a 1998 City Council race and not a 2018 congressional primary,” said one person involved in Crowley’s campaign, granted anonymity to speak about its shortcomings.

By Tuesday, some members of Crowley’s team could feel the movement even before the polls closed. They saw heavier turnout in some more gentrified pockets of the district — Sanders-type strongholds. Her social media presence was swamping them.

Daniel Dromm, a Democratic city councilman who represents part of the congressional district, said he warned the Queens County Democratic leaders, including Crowley himself, that the district was shifting beneath them, ideologically and racially.

“They didn’t want to hear this,” Dromm recalled the response.

Still, few expected Crowley would be felled, as his family and staff filed into his headquarters Tuesday evening. Two officials in the Crowley camp said turnout had been only slightly higher than expected. Either she had turned out different voters, or they voted the other way. It was too early to tell. The result was the same.

People were crying. Crowley was consoling them. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to some.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

Shane Goldmacher © 2018 The New York Times

via NewsSplashy - Latest Nigerian News Online,World Newspaper

[hottytoddynews]

I’ve been told many times that my freshman year of college would be one of the most exciting singular years of my life.

Even with my expectations as high as they were after a year’s worth of anticipation, my freshman year at the University of Mississippi has been an incredible whirlwind of an experience.

Jack Hall

Thinking back over my journey since last summer’s orientation, I have reflections about my introductory year.

During each college visit, I always felt like a tourist who was out of his element. However, when I came to Oxford, I could tell there was something about this place that made it seem more of a home while retaining all of the qualities of a premier institution of higher learning.

When I arrived for my summer orientation, I immediately felt like a member of this community. Accordingly, I spent those few days in training to become a full member of the university.

By the time I had finished registering for fall classes and was on the way home, I was daydreaming about all of the possibilities for my freshman year. I was hooked.

The Stockard Community Council holds a meeting. Photo by Jack Hall.

Despite already feeling so at home on this campus, on move in day, embarrassingly, I did ask one of the staffers whether the tower on the left or right was Stockard Hall, my home for the upcoming school year. I was fortunate that so many of my friends from high school ended up going to the same school and living in the same dorm as me.

I think it would take a finely-tuned stop watch to calculate just how much time eclipsed between me initially dropping my bags on the floor and me heading to see my friends living on the floor below me. That set the tone for the duration of my freshman year, and I would, in fact, spend decent pieces of time socializing in dorms with friends old and new.

With classes beginning the following week, I found the library and quickly remembered the academic component of going off to college. After having a later orientation date, I was left with 8 a.m. classes five days a week.

I was determined to not let this negatively affect my freshman experience. I used these early classes to better develop my time management skills, and I learned to enjoy the cooler air on my morning walks to class.

Jack Hall dutifully takes notes in a morning class. Photo by Davis Huestis.

I realized pretty soon that I had an abundance of free time. I felt like it was being under-utilized, and so I sought ways to get involved with my new school.

I remember my orientation leader sharing with our group how Freshman Council was a great service-based leadership group. I had friends who were applying, and I decided to go out for it.

I don’t think my freshman year would have been near the same without meeting and becoming friends with so many of my new classmates. Freshman Council also put it into perspective for me that I only have four years on this campus as a student—it’s better spent getting to know the people and places with which I surround myself.

One thing I was most excited for was the renowned game day experience offered in the Grove. I had never attended a football game here, and so I had never been here for a day in the Grove.

I found the tented chaos like nothing else in the world. Thousands crowded into the shady acres of rolling earth to catch up with friends, tell relatives what this school was like when they were around, or to mentally prepare for the upcoming game.

Even though we didn’t have the best football season, I had my rookie season in the Grove, and can’t remember a loss spent there with my friends and theirs.

The 2016-2017 members of Freshman Council pose for a photo. Submitted photo.

I recognize that even though Greek rush isn’t for everyone, it was a particularly important part of my freshman year. Rush was a topic on which I was quite ignorant, and I was educated swiftly.

Pledging a fraternity gave me the chance to meet men from all over the nation who came offering friendship and brotherhood. Upon initiation, it opened up a new realm of possibilities for my time in college and beyond.

Throughout all of this, I’ve still been focusing on my coursework to earn a degree. As unstructured as a week in college might be for all students, there is a week of exception. As last semester drew to a close, I turned my attention to final exams. The library became crowded, and I became more determined to do well.

The end of my freshman year is quickly approaching, and I certainly am in shock. I do believe it was only a short time ago that I stepped on this campus. My three remaining years as a student here don’t seem so long anymore.

I’ve been so welcome here on campus in this year. I’ve been a part of groups that have had an impact on the type of person I am. I’ve met so many great individuals who I consider my closest friends, and it’s all drawing to a close. I can only hope that the upcoming freshman are blessed with an irreplaceable year like I’ve had here.

By Jack Hall. This story was originally published on OxfordStories.net before the end of the 2016-17 school year. 

The post Oxford Stories Column: My Freshmen Year At Ole Miss Is Irreplaceable appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[viralhottopics]

‘The Arrangement’ Will Satisfy All Your Curiosities About Fake Celeb Relationships

The first thing you need to know about The Arrangement E!s new Hollywood-centric drama about a television actress who signs a contract to marry a movie star is that its definitely not, in no way,inspired by Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes and Scientology. At least thats what the shows cast and creators claim.

Weve all heard the rumors that the Church of Scientology allegedly auditioned actresses to become Cruises girlfriend before Holmes snagged the role and married him. Thats why comparisons between the shows Kyle West (Josh Henderson) and Megan Morrison (Christine Evangelista) the aforementioned movie star who belongs to a suspicious organization called The Institute of the Higher Mind and the struggling actress who is contracted to play his girlfriend and their suspected real-life counterparts are so hard to resist.

E/Getty

Josh Henderson and Christine Evangelista in “The Arrangement” and Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes at the Vanity Fair Oscars Party in 2012. 

The Arrangement may seem very much inspired by Cruise and Holmes relationship on the surface, but the show is more about the machinations of the Hollywood PR machine and every over-the-top relationship rumor tabloid addicts read over the years.

The concept of the Hollywood contract relationship, otherwise known as a fauxmance or promance, dates back to the studio system of the early 20th century. Actor Rock Hudsons 1955 marriage to secretary Phyllis Gates was famously arranged by the actors agent, Henry Wilson, in an effort to hide Hudsons sexual orientation from the public. Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn had audiences convinced of their love both on- and off-screen, but a 2012 memoir by Hollywood fixer Scotty Bowers claims their 26-year relationship was a decoy to distract from the same-sex relationships they both reportedly enjoyed.

Today, while Hollywood has become a friendlier place to openly queer actors, its possible there are relationships that are arranged to conceal a stars true sexual orientation; however, its far more plausible that a fauxmance might be concocted to promote a shared project or raise a couples collective profile.

Take Kaley Cuoco and Henry Cavills fleeting 12-day fling back in the summer of 2013, which was widely believed to be a fauxmance not that anyone could officially prove it, of course. There just seemed to be something curious about the fact that the two started dating right around the time Cavill was promoting Man of Steel, and that somehow the paparazzi seemed on-hand to document every single one of their dates. The fact that their relationship ended just as quickly as it started, combined with a suspiciously short timeline between Cuoco and Cavills breakup and her new romance with soon-to-be fianc Ryan Sweeting,added to suspicions their romance was less than authentic. Their coupling reeked of a PR-set up. Cuocoeven admitted to Cosmopolitanthat it brought her more attention than she ever received before.

I had no one following me until I met Superman. Ive been in this business for 20 years, and my whole life, I could go anywhere, do anything. There had not been one paparazzi photo of me until like seven months ago. The recognition has been crazy, she told the magazine in a 2014 cover story.

Splash News

Kaley Cuoco and Henry Cavill go shopping hand-in-hand at Gelsons in Sherman Oaks, CA on July 3, 2013. 

The problem with Cuocos statement is that while it used to be commonplace for the paparazzi to be out in full force following celebrities around town, hunting for that perfect picture, that happens far less often today unless you occupy the A-list.

Thanks to the tabloid boom in the early 2000s, being a paparazzo was a lucrative job.There seemed to be a heightened interest in seeing celebs doing mundane things, sparked in part by Us Weeklys Stars Theyre Just Like Us! feature. In the mid-2000s, the right photo could fetch hundreds of thousands of dollars,but that kind of payout has dried up since the introduction of social media, allowing celebrities more control over their own image.

And for someone like Cuoco, who was able to keep her relationship with her Big Bang Theory co-star Johnny Galecki secret for two years without anyone finding out, its difficult to believe the paparazzi were suddenly able to capture intimate moments of her 12-day romance with Cavill unless, of course, they were specifically tipped off.

For all we know, Cuoco and Cavills brief dalliance with one another could have been real, but its hard to deny the overwhelming professional benefits they both enjoyed from the blink-and-you-missed-it affair. Such is the case with what is probably the most-discussed alleged fauxmance in recent history Hiddleswift.

From their humble beginnings born out of totally not staged photos on the rocky shores of Rhode Island, Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddlestons extremely camera-ready relationship simply did not ring true for many fans. Hiddleston has gone on record claiming that of course [the relationship] was real, but believing that means ignoring aspects of their relationship that feel orchestrated.

The Hiddleswift relationship materialized seemingly out of nowhere, becoming public knowledge a mere day before Kim Kardashian accused Swift of lying about having approved lyrics to Kanye Wests song Famous. From a PR perspective, a new, showy relationship not only distracted from the allegations, but also drew focus from Swifts recent breakup with Calvin Harris.

If Swift benefited by trying to distract from negative attention, then Hiddleston, who was then known as a respected British actor, soaked up more attention both good and bad than hed ever experienced up to that point.

Though he took some flak for some of the more attention-grabbing moments of the relationship, like wearing an I T.S. tank top at the beach, becoming fodder for tabloid gossip seems to have proven beneficial for his career. During the time Hiddleston and Swift dated, the actor capitalized on his newly raised profile by growing his Twitter following from 2.8 million to 3.8 million, and he took the opportunity to join Instagram, where he amassed 1.1 million followers in a matter of weeks, according to Refinery 29.

Hiddleston wasnt an unknown before he dated Swift. In fact, he has two blockbuster movies Kong: Skull Island and Thor: Ragnarok due out this year. But every little bit of recognition helps when it comes to promotion and landing that next coveted role.

Observers of celebrity culture can only speculate over the authenticity of relationships like Hiddleswift and others that set off our collective bullshit detectors. Thats why gossip addicts will relish The Arrangement for painting Hollywood the way we assume it really is calculating and manipulative. From the specifics laid out in Kyle and Megans relationship contract, to staged interactions with celebrity exes, and the overreaching publicists and managers who pull all the strings, The Arrangement is rich in detail and probably more reflective of Hollywood than it would like to admit.

The Arrangement premieres Sunday, March 5, at 10 p.m. ET.

Click here to sign up for the Entertainment newsletter your one-stop shop for celebrity news, hilarious late-night bits, industry and awards coverage and more.

Read more: http://huff.to/2lJkpbm

from ‘The Arrangement’ Will Satisfy All Your Curiosities About Fake Celeb Relationships

[samwise1548]

Day 21/40 Freefall

((Martin's finally ready to share his spaghetti recipe with the world!!))

Prev, Next